Forgiveness
by A.Hand.Full.Of.Pearls
Summary: Sarah O'Brien's path through life; war, guilt and unexpected love. Follows on where the first series left off, please R&R!
1. Into the Rain

Sarah O'Brien sighed at her reflection in the mirror on her bedroom wall. It was a tiny mirror, echoing just how tiny she felt at this moment. She could only see her eyes in it. Dark eyes. Guilty eyes. It overwhelmed her for a moment and she turned her back and rested against the wall. Tears threatened to spill but she wouldn't let them, O'Brien never cried. This strong, obnoxious mask she'd built up about herself had protected her from all these years as a lowly servant and she was not about to let it slip away now.

She had never meant to hurt anyone physically. Especially not a baby. An innocent.

Her ladyship was quieter now, withdrawn as was her husband and the rest of the household. The grim fact that war had been declared didn't help much either. Sarah didn't like the Grantham Girls, they were all so snobbish, not taught to do anything but sit and look pretty for rich husbands. They were all miserably with their lot in life.

Hatred bubbled inside her chest and burned her as her guilt did. She couldn't live with this feeling. It strangled her. Eveytime she looked at her ladyship, caught her eye or even though of that little nothing in a pool of blood on the bathroom floor she wanted to scream and scream and scream and scream. Her heavy dress felt hot and tight against her chest as she tried to comfort herself. Curling her arms about her as if in one-sided hug. There was no one she could tell, and forgiveness was out of the question; she could never forgive herself.

A whimpering noise took her by surprise and Sarah started, looking around for the source of the noise. Her hands trembled as she traced the piercing noise back to her own lips. Grasping the shawl from her neck she attempted to silence herself, stuffing it into her mouth to shut off the sound of her own guilt. Shaking she slid to the floor, legs sprawled in front of her, body shaking in silent sobs. In some way the damp shawl was comforting. After a moment Sarah had calmed enough to listen to the silence.

It was raining outside.

Sarah like the rain. It smelt fresh. When she was little she would run outside in the rain and her aunts couldn't follow her there. She knew why she was miserable and bitter; her aunts had been and they had taken it out on her with their malicious punishments.

The rain sounded nice against her little window. It pattered in a soothing rhythm. Shakily Sarah stood up and walked over to her window. She leaned against the cool glass and caught her ghostly reflection. Her hair was down as she had taken the pins out earlier in her little mirror. Her features were harsh but her hair was long. Somehow that seemed to make up for it, waist length curls. Her aunts had cut it off once so she looked like a boy. How she had sobbed then. But not now.

From her window she could see the river. It rushed menacingly. A good punishment.

Still trembling she unlaced her boots and padded across the floor too her bedroom door. No need for shoes in a river.

Silently she walked through the house and out the kitchen door. She felt unreal. The rain hit her with a comforting coldness and in a moment she felt her body release the sobs she had been holding back. Her cheeks were soon wet with tears and her dress soaked with rain. She walked through the wet grass down to the river bank and stood for a moment. Her hair was now plastered to her face and back and her hands were shaking, but she was not afraid of death itself but what awaited her after it.

Was she condemned to Hell?

The river bank was muddy and stuck to her stockings. Sarah couldn't see anymore, her vision was blurred by guilty tears and she slipped and stumbled and fell to her knees. And then she finally screamed.

Screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed at the floor. Her voice was caught in the wind and she couldn't hear anything anymore. No one would come from the big house. She didn't want them anyway.

Sarah O'Brien stood once more, her skirts muddy and her hands red and unsteady. Her eyes red.

She walked into the river.

* * *

><p>From his cottage John Knight could see the whole of Downton estate. He could see the flower beds and the well kept lawn and took pride in his work. To most he was simply the gardener but to himself he was the Estate manager. It wasn't much but it was better then being in prison.<p>

His cottage was tiny but home; a kitchen with a table chair and fireplace and a bedroom with a big bed. He had always felt he didn't deserve the kindness Lord Grantham had show him by giving him this job.

He had been only a boy. Young and impressionable. His elder brother had rough friends who stole from the village where they had lived and he had wanted to prove himself worthy of his brother's affection. A robbery gone wrong. Just a little old widow on the edge of town had caught him stealing silver from her and had screamed at him so he reacted as any startled boy would and pushed her. Right down the stairs.

They didn't even let him attend her funeral to say sorry.

John had visited her grave when he had been released and found it overwhelmed him. He had never been back there.

He could till hear her scream as she fell. No. He could hear a scream now.

John looked back towards the kitchen window and could see only the dark grounds. He was imagining it. Memories haunting him, it was well past midnight. He just couldn't sleep, so he had made a pot of tea and sat by the fire, not that there was much comfort in that.

There the noise was again. Screaming on the wind.

Some poor soul down by the river, a beggar looking for a way out? He could see a figure now. Very much in the river, walking deeper and deeper.

In a split second he was out of the door, tea forgotten on the table, and flying with speed down the river to the spot where he had seen the ghost. Only there was no one there, just muddy foot prints and…a hand in the middle of the river grasping for help. John didn't even think about it, he just dived in and grabbed at the hand. It was harder than it looked. He was a strong swimmer but the current was strong and the rain was heavy. Involuntarily he was pulled under the water and once surfaced again he was completely disorientated. There was no hand to signal him anymore just the rush of water and…and a dead weight against his legs pulling him under. Drawing all his courage to him at once he went under again and grabbed the weight and heaved back to the shore in a vain hope of rescue.

It was a woman.

Spluttering water John pulled her from the river further up the back. She was deadly pale. But definably not a beggar. She was dressed in black, a servant's gown. Not pretty but rather handsome features and lovely long hairs that seemed to curl around his hand as he instinctively supported her head. Her skin was soft and frail and cold. No pulse.

Was she dead? How did you tell? In a moment of madness he shook her, it didn't work but then he had hardly expected it to. He had once seen a man woken by a nurse in the prison when he had taken too many white sleeping pills; she had pushed on his chest, forcefully. He looked down at the woman below him. Could he do that to her? She was a…well, a woman, she had a, ahem, chest. Still no movement. Her lips were very deep in colour, almost blue and her eyes were red. John could not let her die.

He pushed on her chest. Nothing happened. Suddenly angry at this woman for nothing he pushed again, harder and harder, over and over and then, as if by some force of god, she spluttered and opened her eyes, coughing up water. Immediately he rolled her to her side so she could breathe easier and spit out the river from her lungs.

"What d' yer think yer doin'?"

John was so taken aback by her angry tone he pulled he up to face him. She was pale and angry and nearly unconscious. But still she pushed him away, if feebly, and struggled against his arms back to the river.

"Lemme go, fool, lemme..."

She collapsed. Her full body weight suddenly on him john struggled for a moment before sweeping her legs from the ground and holding her against his chest.

Slightly he carried her back to his cottage. It had stopped raining.


	2. Into the Fire

Once they arrived back at his cottage is was pitch black and the fire had guttered out. Gingerly John navigated his way round the table, tripping slightly over the chair leg, and made his way to the bedroom. He was still holding an unconscious woman. A soaking wet, unconscious woman. Gently he placed her in the chair by the bed and shook her awake.

Sarah opened her eyes a fraction. It hurt. Her head spun and she found she couldn't see. It was so dark. Was this hell? Sarah bloody hoped not. A hand was on her arm. Hot and firm, gripping her to her seat.

"Miss? Miss, can you hear me?"

Sarah was vaguely aware of how cold she was and shivered as if to throw off the chill.

"I need to get yer outta yer wet clothes, Miss…can yer do that?"

Obediently Sarah nodded. Everything was so out of focus and dream like. The voice and blurred shape commanding her to remove her clothes was so warm and angel like. Maybe she was in Heaven after all? Slowly she stood up and attempted to balance but the floor seemed to shift beneath her and she stumbled forwards into the figures arms.

For a moment John held the woman awkwardly. She was still awake; he could hear her breathing and felt her body sway with the effort to stay upright.

"Put yer hands on me shoulders, Miss, that'll steady yer"

Blindly Sarah moved her hands further up and felt them guided by that strong grip.

John tentatively mirrored her movements but downwards and gradually placed his hands on her waist.

"If yer don't mind, I'll take yer wet clothes off. Don't want yer catching you death"

Sarah nearly snorted at the absurdity of it. An angel or the devil was about to disrobe her and here she was holding its shoulders for support.

John reached up and began to unbutton her dress. At first he tried to look at anything apart from what he was actually meant to be unbuttoning but found it impossible. Each button unfastened revealed more and more of her cream shift and, John couldn't help but grin, cream corset. It was slow work and more than once the woman lost her balance and nearly fell but John kept a hold of her and soon she stood before him in her shift, her waterlogged clothes lay on the floor. Her shift was sodden wet as well.

"Shall I take me shirt off as well? Only I an't got anything under…"

Sarah tripped sideways and neatly sat down on the bed, nearly taking John with her. But he kept his balance and his composure, though every ounce of male logic was telling him to take this woman right now whilst he still had the chance, and moved away to his drawers to find an old nightgown of his fathers. It was manly made of course but it didn't matter. Without turning around he held it out to the woman.

"Take it miss"

After a moment she did. There was a pause as if she were considering it a trick. For a few minutes he stood in silence whilst she fumbled with changing her soaking shift for his fathers best nightgown.

"I'm decent now"

Her sharp tone told him to turn around. He did so and was surprised to see her standing up, although feebly clinging to the bedpost.

"Who are yer?"

"Me? I'm John, miss, John Knight. I'm just the Gardener"

There was a horrible long pause.

"I'm so cold"

If anything, that was the last thing John expected the woman to say. For a moment they just stood and stared at each other. Then Sarah felt the energy slip from her body and everything went black.

With little effort John caught the strange woman and carried her to his bed and layed her down beneath the warm covers, smoothing her long hair out of her eyes and found himself caring who she was. She had been attempting suicide hadn't she? But why?

It was only then that it dawned on him that he was freezing cold and soaking wet. Quickly he moved away from her sleeping form and pulled off his clothes with slightly too much haste, knocking his head on the door frame as he did so. John knew he would not sleep tonight, sighing he pulled on a clean, dry pair of rough trousers and shirt. Without out even thinking about it, for it never crossed his mind that it might be wrong or unwanted, he pulled the chair close to the bed and sat beside the woman and took her cold hand in his. Somehow it comforted him that this strange, handsome woman was sad too.

* * *

><p>Mrs Hughes was panicking. Well, that was the wrong word for it really, more like very worried. O'Brien hadn't come down to Breakfast this morning, or been to dress her ladyship and had not been seen by anyone in the house last night. It did not help matters that her bed was empty. But the thing that puzzled Mrs Hughes was that everything was in its place; O'Brien's shoes were there at the foot of her bed. And her coat hung by the door. In fact, everything was there but O'Brien.<p>

Thomas was no help. He had just snorted when asked of her whereabouts and said bluntly;

"If she's done a bunk, good on 'er"

Naturally her ladyship was worried. It was so unlike O'Brien, un-likable as she was, to not do her duty. Anna, calm and sensible and oh so nice, would take ladies maid duties for the moment.

There would be Hell to pay when Elise Hughes found O'Brien.

* * *

><p>John awoke with a start. It was morning. Late morning. Now this was bad, he was late for his duties, people would be angry, he would be fire…but, someone was holding his hand. Gripping it in fact.<p>

The woman.

He had forgotten her. He must have finally fallen asleep sitting upright in his chair. Her hand was hot and clammy. Last night he had been so sure that he had rescued her but now looking at her he seemed to have done more damage than good. She stirred restlessly but her eyes didn't open and beads of moisture glinted in the sun light across her forehead. A fever. Abandoning his duties John ran for some water from the pump outside and, sitting gently beside her again, he placed cold flannels across her neck and wrist and then sat and watched her.

If he ran for the doctor she would be on her own.

If he didn't she might die.

* * *

><p>Sarah felt hot. It was like the bloody flames of Hell were surrounding her, smothering her. She couldn't seem to escape. She was being punished. Just like she had wanted.<p>

_Authors note: Sorry for the jumping around in this chapter! I'm trying to tell the story from different view points and it's not working very well…let me know what you think, R&R please! Xxx_


	3. Into the Night

Edith was walking the path by the river doing her very best at an Ophelia impression from Shakespeare's Hamlet. She hated feeling this way, such anger at her sisters; blood tied them together but those snide little comments of Mary's would pull them apart. And Edith just couldn't help but to retort. Today she had nothing to do but walk. This was possibly the worst thing she could have been doing for it gave her time to dwell on her arguments with her sister.

Edith was so lost in her own thoughts she nearly missed the gardener sticking his head out of the river cottages window.

"Miss? Miss? Excuse me…Yer Ladyship?"

She turned, startled, to look at him and found him flustered and worried looking.

"What ever is the matter?"

"It's…"

John trailed off. He could hardly tell one of the Grantham Ladies that he'd found one of their servants attempting to drown herself in their river. He could lie. Say she was his sister, his wife? The woman's state had not fared any better now it was nearly lunchtime. In fact she was possibly worse.

"It's me wife, Miss. She's terrible ill. Could yer ask 'em to call for the Doctor? Please?"

The last word sounded horribly desperate. For a moment it looked as if the lady was considering saying no but then she smiled at him.

"Of course I will. What's her name?"

There was a terrible pause.

"They won't know 'er name, up at 'ouse…."

Edith considered this for a moment and then accepted it. They could hardly be expected to know all the names of their servants after all.

John watched the young lady turn and walk, painfully slowly, back towards the house. For a moment he stood in the bedroom doorway. The dark haired woman moaned in her fever and the sheets clung to her hot skin. He felt so unreasonably responsible. He didn't even know the woman's name.

* * *

><p>"Excuse me, Mrs Hughes?"<p>

Edith stood uncomfortably in the kitchen. She had been so confident that she could command the staff but now that she was actually standing before the house keeper, butler and cook she found herself overwhelmed and dreadfully intimidated.

"What is it Miss Edith?"

Carson asked his least favourite Grantham daughter with a vague notion of foreboding. Did she want another driving lesson? Maybe she'd brought a bigger car? He nearly shuddered openly at the very thought.

"It's the Gardener's wife, he says she's ill. Would you mind awfully calling the doctor, Carson?"

Carson nodded, then paused.

"But Knight doesn't have a wife…"

He looked for confirmation from Elsie who looked as confused as he felt. For a split second they stood in each others minds having an unspoken conversation at the speed of light.

Charles will call the doctor and then he and Elsie will go and see this 'wife' with him. Somehow it seemed safer.

Three hours later and the doctor arrived at Downton. Elise Hughes felt inexplicably nervous but why she couldn't explain. It just seemed so odd. It had been a strange morning after all, what with O'Brien going missing and….a horrible thought popped into Elsie's head. A trip down to the river cottage with Carson and the doctor only confirmed it.

In the bedroom, looking surprisingly small and fragile lay O'Brien. The gardener looked sheepish and stood awkwardly, hovering nearest the bed and getting in the doctors way. For some reason he seemed to be protecting her, but why Elsie wasn't sure yet.

"Her fever will break tonight. That will be the crisis point, normally I would stay with you and help but…there are so many patients at the hospital, what with the war and…I fear she is too weak now, she won't live to see the morning"

The doctors voice cut through Johns mind like a knife. After all of his efforts the woman was doomed by the voice of reason to die.

"If yer don't mind, I'd like ter sit with 'er"

John's voice sound silly and strained.

Carson raised her eyebrow at Elsie but she simply smiled at John Knight and nodded. They left him in silence. Once they were away from the cottage and walking back towards the big house Charles opened his mouth to enquire as to Elsie's motives but she cut across him.

"It looks like O'Brien's made a friend. Let's at least give her that, if we moved her to back to her room she would be alone. I'll inform her ladyship O'Brien cannot attend her tonight. Or tomorrow"

"You think she'll get better?"

Charles highly doubted O'Brien would last the night, she had been so pale, so unlike her usual self. It had shaken him.

"She'd better" Elsie replied grimly, her accent deepening "It's so difficult to find a decent ladies maid nowadays" She grinned weakly at him. Despite both their difficulties with O'Brien neither could stand the thought of another death in the house so soon.

* * *

><p>The night sky darkened outside and John lit several candles around the bedroom.<p>

Sarah. Her name was Sarah. It seemed to suit her. He hadn't liked the way the butler and the housekeeper had kept referring to her as "O'Brien". It seemed odd in such a situation, the poor woman was dieing after all.

And dieing she was. Her temperature had soared so that her skin burned to the touch, she shock violently and her cries tore at his soul. To be in that torture. The doctor had told him to keep her warm. She was so warm already but he put another blanket over her anyway. What else could he do? Hot water bottle? Seemed as good an idea as any. Reluctantly he let go of her hand, which he seemed to be in the habit of taking when ever he sat down next to her, and walk towards the kitchen. Her voice surprised him.

"No…please…stay"

Her eyes were open. Not unseeing as they had been but alert, bright with fever but he knew she could see him. Quickly he moved back to her side.

"I'm so cold"

Whether it was pure instinct or the fact that she had her arms stretched out to him John wasn't sure but the next thing he knew he had climbed onto the bed next to her and pulled her into his arms. She was so hot to touch but he pulled her close and felt her nestle into his chest in reply. There he stayed for a long time, half lying, half sitting with Sarah curled up next to him.

Her eyes closed. Her breathing slowed down. He felt her body go limp in his arms.

For a terrible moment he believed she was dead.

Then he felt her breath.

She had fallen asleep of her own free will. The fever had gone. She wasn't shaking anymore, just lay still and at ease. John nearly cried with relief.


	4. Into the Sun

Sarah awoke with a start but didn't open her eyes. She felt tired, so very, very tired. Like all the energy had been pulled out of her. She was very aware that there was a weight around her waist and above her head, it was warm and comforting. She breathed in, the air smelt dusty and foreign. Not the usual smell she had in her bedroom first thing in the morning but more manly. That was it. It smelt earthy. The weight holding her down moved slight and then it hit her.

There were arms round her waist. And attached to those arms was a body. Sarah tentatively moved her hands up and found a chest, a neck and the weight above her head must be another head. A man.

This was a very strange turn of events.

Why was she lying in bed, she supposed she was in bed for she could feel she wasn't wearing much and there was a definite softness beneath her, but with a man?

Sarah couldn't think of any reason why she should be in this position. Desperately she scanned her brain but everything seemed fuzzy, as if looking at an old drawing you did as a child and not sure who the figures are. The one thing she was certain of was this; she was not dead.

The man, for that it what he was, moved again apparently asleep and the arms around her tightened a fraction. Sarah resisted the urge to push them away. She hated intimacy of any kind, especially bare skin on skin. A horrible thought hit her. How had she gotten under dressed? Last thing she could remember she had been in the black maid's gown but now she seemed only to be wearing a thin nightgown. Even her corset had gone but she did still have her stockings and drawers on. That was a slight relief.

It was then she realised she didn't want to open her eyes. If she opened them the spell would be broken and she would ruin it. But if she stayed like this anything might happen, not that she felt taken advantage of…if anything she felt as if she should have been but no. Even if this man was holding her possessively, he wasn't clutching her in one mad lustful whim; it was more like her was sheltering her from the world. A wicked little voice piped up in the back of her head, no man had ever looked at her in lust or even looked at her in that way at all she supposed. The thought made her feel unexpectedly angry and she moved to sit up and opened her eyes.

She was in a bed.

Her head spun a little and a wave of nausea fell over her. In the few seconds she had before the man beside her awoke she took this much of her surroundings in; she was in a cottage, she was on the ground floor, she could hear the river, it was light and therefore day.

She was wearing the thinnest night shirt she had ever seen. It was so flimsy and looked very well worn. At least it covered her body up; she wasn't flashing anything she shouldn't be.

The man stirred and woke up. Their eyes met and for several awkward moments they just looked at each other.

John jumped out of the bed and backed himself against the wardrobe. Suddenly the room was so small and hot, the woman regarded him from the middle of the bed, her eyes dark and her night gown…oh, so see-through…

Sarah followed his gazed and, eyes widened in horror, pulled the covers up to her chin and glared at him.

"I'm ever so sorry, Miss…I weren't looking, I swear!"

His voice was much rougher than she had expected and ironically they shared the same accent.

"Yer name is John"

"It is!" John beamed in delight at her remembering such a trivial fact. "An' I know yours Miss, It's Sarah"

Sarah blinked. Why was this man, this John, grinning at her? What had they done to warrant him such an expression? But then he said her name, no one addressed her by her first name now a days and it swept over her and made her feel very funny indeed. Involuntarily she shivered at the memory of his gaze.

"Are yer cold Sarah? I'll get yer another blanket"

"Why?"

John turned at the door he had been so eager to get out of. She looked lovely, the sun light streaming through the window, lighting her figure from behind, her hair dark and tousled down her back and her handsome features alight with confusion.

"Yer 've been so ill. I thought yer was going to die. Everybody did"

"Everyone?"

"Yeah."

"Oh"

Sarah tried to process this information but found she couldn't, her head hurt too much.

John stood in the doorway, waiting instruction but was again surprised by her next question.

"Gotta spare fag?"

"…Yeah"

10 minutes later and they were both sitting outside smoking. Sarah was still weak and it obviously annoyed her but John had insisted that she sit down. He had even brought the comfy chair from the bedroom out for her whilst he used the pile of logs. They sat for a long time in silence; the house hid them from view of Downton so Sarah was still in the old nightgown with John's dressing gown and a shawl around her. Eventually John broke the silence.

"Why did yer do it?"

Still uneasy with the gaps in her memory Sarah shrugged.

"I needed ter"

"Why"

"Don't you keep askin'. It ain't yer place. Why did yer pull me out anyways? I deserved it…I had to…"

Sarah trailed off unable to control her emotions any longer. Her fag dropped to the floor. Damn, why was she so bloody pathetic? She could feel tears running down her cheeks and she couldn't bring herself to face him. Using her free hand she tried to rub the tears away and was shocked when a rough hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her up into a hug.

John hugged Sarah for a long time. It was awkward, no doubt about that. John's arms were comforting around her and she could feel his head buried in her hair. It felt good. He felt good against her. Almost right.

John couldn't believe his own boldness. This time the lustful demon inside of him wasn't crying out but he was simply being, dare he use the word, a friend.

After a moment they uncomfortably drew away from each other. Sarah stared into his chest, unable to raise her eyes.

His hand found her cheek and raised her head. He was inches away from her. Sarah tried to gulp but the lump stuck in her throat. Her head felt suddenly clouded and she put her hands out to support herself, accidentally brushing his chest in the process. She let her hands rest there. Why hadn't she pulled away?

John studied her face. Her eyes were still dark and her skin was pale white. He could have counted every single one of her long shadowy eyelashes. Her eyes were brown, like tea.

He wasn't sure what possessed him.

He bent down and kissed her.

Their lips met. Soft, hardly touching.

Sarah pressed her hands against him to steady herself. For some illogical reason she had closed her eyes as he had bent towards her. The feeling of being kissed was so very strange. It sent a tingling sensation down her spine and butterflies in her stomach.

John put his other arm around her waist and they both naturally deepened the kiss.

An image flashed up in Sarah's mind. The baby. Dead baby. Lady Grantham covered in blood. A small bar of soap stained red with blood.

Roughly Sarah pushed John away and found herself leaning against the cottage wall gasping for breath. This was so wrong. She had been kissing him. Why the heck had she been kissing him? She should be feeling guiltily not sighing like some bloody lady.

"What did yer do that fer?"

John stood sheepishly.

"Yer seemed ter like it Sarah"

His casual use of her name irritated her and she found herself angry with him.

"Yer had no right ter just go kissin' where it weren't wanted..."

Sarah paused; it had been wanted very much.

_Authors note: Let me know if its getting too out of character...and please review, it totally makes my day! Xxx_


	5. Into the Heat

"Dear O'Brien, It is so good to have you back" Lady Grantham purred as Sarah laced up her corset.

Sarah's mind was elsewhere. Well, to be perfectly honest it was on John, specifically on his lips pressed against hers. They had parted on such bad terms. She had shut him out of his own bedroom whilst she changed back into her black servant's gown all the time shouting through the door what a bleeding liberty he had taken. She had been surprised to open the door to find him standing there quite calmly with a cup of tea for her. They had drunk their teas in silence. She had thanked him curtly for his kindness and walked back up to Downton house. The very place she had been making an escape from.

"O'Brien?" Lady Grantham's enquiring tone brought her back down to earth. "Are you sure you are quite recovered? You look very pale"

"It's nothin' m'lady"

Sarah forced her mind on the tedious task in hand. A blurry memory flickered into her mind; rough fingers unlacing her corset, brushing accidentally against the bare skin of her neckline, muttered apologies as he smoothed her hair against the pillow. His hand grasping hers. She almost wished he had taken advantage of her. At least that would give her anger at him some reason.

"I'm finished m'lady"

"Thank you O'Brien, you may go"

Sarah all but ran from the room.

Two weeks past before she saw him again.

* * *

><p>She was standing outside the servants' hall smoking with Thomas. It was uncomforably hot, which didn't help. John was moving logs from the estate to the long pile for the servant's fire using a wheelbarrow. He looked dirty and rough. He met her gaze at once and a spark of something flew through Sarah's stomach.<p>

"Jesus, O'Brien, wake up! You making eyes at the gardener now? Goin' a bit soft in our old age, are we?"

"Hold yer tongue, Thomas." Sarah bit her lip in horror at the words tumbling out of her mouth "Yer not exactly a spring chicken' yerself either...and the thought of that man...it's disgustin'' "

John's eyes met hers and hurt shot through them. Sarah casually flicked the end of her cigarette and turned her back on him, continuing her conversation with Thomas, burning with shame inside. Her O'Brien mask was back on. O'Brien couldn't be nice, it didn't work.

That evening John sat at his table drinking a bottle of gin. Yes, bottle. He wasn't even pouring it into a cup first. It didn't help really. He still felt wretched about his life. What did that woman have to smirk and dismiss him for? She was nothing. They were all nothings. He kicked the table leg in frustration and immediately regretted it. It hurt. Cursing he stood up and fell over almost instantly, he had drunk more than he thought. From the floor he could see a shadow cast across his door, it swung open, and he looked up still on his hands and knees and scowled.

"Oh. It's you"

"John?"

"No. It's the bleeding Christmas elf."

Sarah walked in to the house and bent to help him up. He pushed her arm away rather more forcefully than he needed to and used the table to drag himself up. His head buzzed with the high of the alcohol.

"I came to say I'm sorry."

"Why? I don't want yer apologies. Yer stupid. Yer just a silly little nothin and…"

John rambled on in this vein for several moments before stepping too hard and loosing his balance, bashing the table with his arm.

"Bloody stupid.…Arrgghhh! God damn it!"

He nursed his hand in almost a childs sulk. He could feel her eyes on him. Judging him. Again her voice surprised him.

"Sorry"

"No"

"Yer've hurt yer self."

"No"

"Let me help"

"No"

Sarah briskly stepped forward and pulled his hand away from his chest and inspected it. John tried to pull it back but it hurt and she had a surprisingly firm grip.

"Yer've got a splinter in it."

"No"

"Oh! For gods sakes, man! Yer have! Now stop being so bloody stupid and let me get it out!"

She pulled his hand towards the light and John came with it. Awkwardly his hand was pulled directly into her chest and he held it there, enjoying the look of anger and surprise on her face. Lowering his face closer to hers and studied her, letting her smell the gin on his breath. Sarah scowled.

"I could take yer now." He all but whispered "Not too far from the bed…Or we could just do it here, on the table"

John grinned in spite of everything. Sarah's face told him she was furious but her eyes showed lust. Roughly he grabbed her shoulders and kissed her, quickly, on the lips almost bruising her soft skin. He pulled away smirking.

She slapped him.

Then she kissed him back.

Her arms pulled his shirt collar towards her and he let his hand roam freely from her shoulders down to her waist, hips, back. If he was going to have her, now was as good a time as any. Her fingers scratched his neck and he wasn't sure if she was pushing or pulling him away. But then she moaned against his lips.

"More"

No need for more encouragement John kissed her cheeks, her neck, any bare skin within reach. Her hands found his head and she ran her long fingers though his hair. Sarah was truly lost. This man, this wonderful annoying man was kissing her, touching her without any restraint as if he actually wanted too. He groaned into the tight collar of her dress and pushed her back against the table. Their skin broke contact and the spell was broken.

For a long time they simply started at each other.

Then Sarah placed the splinter she had pulled from his hand on the table and glared at him.

"Goodnight"

"Yer can't just leave like this, Sarah"

"I can. Goodnight. Go ter bed"

Sarah abruptly walked out of the house and closed to door quickly behind her. She leaned against it and breathed in the humid night air. What was she doing? That certainly didn't go as planned. She brought her hands up to touch her face where so recently his lips had been. How did that happen? She nearly smiled at the memory. Slowly she moved away and began to walk back up to the house.

* * *

><p>The next morning there was a flurry of activity in the house. Matthew Crawley, the heir to Downton, had been called up to join the war effort. Carson was going on and on and on about it to anyone who'd listen. Thomas was off suddenly as well. He sat next to Sarah at the servants table and muttered under his breath about how he would not miss any of these miserable old servants for moment. Sarah didn't take a word of it in. Her mind was still processing what had actually happened last night.<p>

War could wait.

Sarah O'Brien might just be in love.


	6. Into the Dream

The next few weeks past by in a blur; Master Crawley called in his new uniform most days at the house much to Lady Mary's displeasure and Thomas grinned at every telling off from Mrs Hughes and Carson and simply did what he wanted. He smoked a lot though. Too much Sarah thought really. John didn't come up to the house. Sarah waited most days outside till the darkness fell and she couldn't see the grounds anymore under the premise that she was having one last fag before bed but even Thomas grew tired on watching her stare into the darkness.

"Yer a fool, Sarah."

"I beg yer pardon?"

She was taken a back by such an unprovoked statement. And by the harshness in Thomas voice.

"I've watched yer for years. What's changed? What did he do to yer?"

"Don't yer dare…"

"But I do dare, Sarah, a quick shag in the grounds and you think its love?" Thomas laughed bitterly.

"Yer a heartless man" Sarah couldn't help her voice shaking

Thomas laughed aloud "But that's what yer liked about me, Sarah…neither of us av' hearts….come, let's depart as friends"

Thomas held his hand out to her, smirking, thinking it was all just still a game. Sarah didn't take it. Only took a long drag of her cigarette.

"Bugger off Thomas"

The laughter drained from his face and he scowled and strode off back into the house but turned at the door and very purposely met her eyes.

"Pardon me for breathin' Sarah "

Thomas left the next morning.

* * *

><p>John was angry at Sarah. Why had she never come to apologise for her rudeness? He looked up at the big house, he couldn't very well go up there and demand her to say sorry to him, could he? She'd just laugh in his face. He did have a strange dream though that was haunting him; her fingers running though his hair. Long fingers. And a breathy moan. But he dismissed it. Only a lonely mans dream.<p>

* * *

><p>"O'Brien?"<p>

Sarah snapped out of her day dreaming and looked at Lady Grantham who was sitting below her at the dressing table holding her hair brush out to her. Sarah flushed as she realised that she had been staring out of the window for a good few moments.

"O'Brien you have been staring out of that window quite determinedly for days now, what ever is the matter?"

"Nothing, m'lady"

But her ladyship was not to be put off so easily. She too had notice the change in O'Brien but had supposed it was down to Thomas the footman leaving, she knew they were close. She stood up, pushing the stool back on to a protesting O'Brien and peered cautiously out of the window. The grounds of Downton were dark but there was a light flickering in the river cottage window.

"Who lives in the cottage by the river?"

"No one, m'lady"

Lady Grantham grinned as Sarah's cheeks flushed red.

"I think there is, come now, there is no reason to be coy with me is there? We are friends after all."

Sarah sighed. Her ladyship's view of life was a strange one, did friends spend their lives walking around on egg shells and referring to each using their last names? But Lady Grantham had been through so much and Sarah bit her lip. She was the reason her ladyship had suffered.

"It's just the Gardener m'lady. No one special."

Lady Grantham's eyes narrowed and Sarah knew she didn't believe her. It didn't help that eveytime she though of John her heart beat so much she felt very funny. Maybe she was having some sort of mental break down? Her own voice surprised her.

"His names John…"

Lady Grantham clapped her hands and laughed. "O'Brien that's wonderful!"

"Really m'lady, it's not…"

"Is it love?"

Sarah opened her mouth to reject such a stupid thing and found she couldn't. She paused and a horrible conflict of emotions filled her head. She was talking to her ladyship as if nothing had happened between them, as if no cold blooded murder had taken place but there was this heat that spread though her, like eveytime she though of him her lips curled into an unconscious smile. She forced the emotion down.

"I was teasing m'lady. There's no one. I've finished"

Lady Grantham looked crestfallen. "Very well….Goodnight O'Brien"

* * *

><p>Sarah walked outside to have her one last fag before bed but found herself walking past the gates and out on to the grounds, her cigarettes untouched in her pocket. It was like a magnet drawing her towards him, she couldn't stop herself. Suddenly she could not hold back the feeling any more, it was most unnatural. She just had to see him. At his door she paused. What could she say? The door swung open and unexpectedly she was face to face with him.<p>

"Sarah?"

She kissed him. It seemed like the right thing to do. That was why she was so surprised when he pushed her away.

"What are yer playin' at?"

"Nothin'. I just thought you'd like some company…"

She trailed off. His eyes blazed with anger.

"How dare you come here? I don't see you for weeks and then you openly and unashamedly snub me in front of yer fancy footmen. No 'sorry', yer just don't get it do yer?"

Sarah gulped at the harsh telling off. It had never occurred to her that he might not have remembered that night. She certainly did. He had been drinking, she recalled now in the face of his anger. She bit her lip and gruffly replied.

"I'm sorry"

How horribly humble.

"It's a bit late fer that now"

Anger flare inside her and before she could stop herself she retorted.

"Well, yer hardly the perfect gentleman are yer? Undressin' me when I couldn't stop yer?"

Sarah felt her colour raise at the thought but a harder emotion took hold of her and she felt her anger at the world bubble to the surface again. She knew her voice rose in volume and she turned to march out of the door.

"I've been called up to fight."

His quiet words astonished her and she turned abruptly in the door way.

"I'm going to war Sarah"

It was like all the breath had been knocked from her. John sat down slowly at the table and turned his back on her. He hadn't thought he see her again. He had certainly never thought he'd tell he was to be a soldier. It had physically hurt him, her rejection, but he was a big boy, he'd get over it. Sarah stood in silence, her hands shook, this was the last thing she had wanted him to say.

"Yer jokin' "

"I'm not. I leave in a week, when Master Crawley does…It's not like I've got anythin' to keep me here"

Sarah wanted to scream at him. Stay, stay, stay. Stay with me. But instead she felt her O'Brien mask slip back on and she muttered.

"Yer right. Send us a postcard"

The lump stuck in her throat and she stopped talking before she started rambling on about anything. John didn't reply. Sarah took it as her cue to leave. Earlier she had been so sure he had wanted to see her but now, she knew she had just been dreaming.

A silly maid's dream of love.

It didn't exist.

_Authors note: If you're trying to imagine what John Knight looks like; he looks exactly like the man playing Mr Lang, the new valet to Lord Grantham…I couldn't believe it! Isn't the mind a funny thing? _


	7. Into the War

Elsie Hughes signed in frustration. War. It rattled her. And it unsettled everyone, they were all living on the edge of a knife and the world might come crashing down on them at any point. It was funny how people had reacted to the changes; Daisy went round the kitchen her usual ditzy state but seemed to speak less and somehow her movements were unnatural. Like a clockwork doll. Carson was working himself into a early grave, she hated seeing him like this, the whole world on his shoulders. He glanced at her across the kitchen table and smiled as their eyes met. His smile was warm and comforting. It helped. Across from her was O'Brien. Now she had defiantly changed. Usually O'Brien was difficult but now she was unbearable! Every little thing was sneered or glared at and when O'Brien did speak her voice was strained, as if she were attempting to stop herself physically lashing out.

Elsie rubbed her eyes in exasperation.

There was simply too much on her mind right now to worry about O'Brien.

* * *

><p>John had passed his physical exam for the army. He would leave for training tomorrow. The army had been surprisingly welcome. He supposed it had something to do with being in prison. Kill the convicts first. Seemed as good a motto as any.<p>

He deeply regretted pushing Sarah away.

Had she apologised? He couldn't remember…He was sure she had clung to him at some point as it simmered through his dreams but that was probably when she was high with fever. She'd probably never look at him in that way in reality. No room for sentimentally, especially if you're a soldier.

It was better this way anyway.

The little voice of his conscience piped up in the back of his head, reminding him just how empty his little house was now. All his belongings had been packed away and his soldier's uniform lay on the bed. Clean and tidy. He highly doubted it would look that way for long.

Gently he placed his hand on the pillow where Sarah had slept and felt the softness of her cheek, the curl of her long, dark hair. He would take that memory with him. That was the nicest one. All the others he could leave behind.

* * *

><p>Sarah sat in her bedroom and stared into that hateful small mirror. She hadn't bothered to go down to the servant's hall for dinner and somehow doubted she would be missed.<p>

Tomorrow John would be gone.

She wondered vaguely what would make him stay? Maybe she should throw her self in the river again? No…that was just silly. He was too proud and she couldn't deny him the chance to be a hero for his country.

Her hero.

Her Knight in shining armour. She snorted feebly at the image. Knight. She rather liked the name, it was certainly less fussy than O'Brien.

A knock at her door startled her and she rose, mentally preparing her self for a quick snide remark that would send Daisy back to the kitchens. But it wasn't Daisy. It was Mrs Hughes, holding a parcel. They both stood awkwardly, neither particularly desperate to begin what looked to be a very uncomfortable conversation.

"This was left at the servants door for you." Elsie held out the parcel to O'Brien.

Sarah didn't take it. Simply stared. A parcel? Why? Who would send her a parcel? She looked up at Mrs Hughes to see if she could see any signs of trickery. But nothing, Mrs Hughes eventually pushed it into her hands and sat down. Another horrible self-conscious pause.

"Well, aren't you going to open it?"

Almost without thinking about it Sarah obeyed Mrs Hughes. It may have been the first time in her life she had even done so. She was just too tired to argue. Too lost.

Sarah opened the parcel tentatively. It was white cotton fabric. Old, thin fabric. She held it out and the fabric fell into it's rightful shape. It was a nightgown. A mans night gown.

John's.

Elsie took in a sharp breath and stared. Of all the things she might have guessed would be in the parcel that was probably the last. It was a nasty old thing, greying material that should have been thrown out years ago. Elsie nearly fell off her chair when O'Brien gently folded it back up and place it next to her pillow. Sarah kept her back turned on Mrs Hughes, she couldn't bear to let her see her crying.

"Please leave my room now…"

"O'Brien?"

Sarah turned abruptly, wiping her face as she went to disguise her distress.

"GET OUT!"

Although O'Brien's shout was really very daunting, Elsie Hughes was not fooled for nearly a minute. O'Brien was crying; the rims of her eyes were red and her hands shook. She held a small, folded piece of paper. A letter.

_Dear Sarah,_

_I felt I should leave this with you. _

_Remember me how you will,_

Just a scrap of paper with a dirty, scrawled signature on it. Sarah clutched it unconsciously to her chest.

"Mr Knight?" Mrs Hughes enquired, not batting an eyelid at Sarah's obvious change of heart.

"How did yer know?"

"He told us…well, not in so many words but he did tell half of Downton you were his wife…accidentally mind, he never meant any harm."

Sarah spluttered through her tears. The O'Brien mask had slipped off and fallen under the bed, Sarah was in no mind to retrieve it. "He did what?"

"I believe he saved you." Elsie paused, brow furrowing "From what though, I am not sure"

They sat in a companionable silence for several more moments before Elsie gave up O'Brien's secret as a lost cause.

"He leaves tomorrow, doesn't he?"

Sarah nodded, not wishing to open her mouth, terrified of the things that might pour out if she did so.

"Does he know?"

Sarah lifted her head. "Know what?

Elsie smiled. "If you don't know the answer to that I believe I'm wasting my time. He catches the train at 10:25; you'll not be needed in the house, go and do what you must."

Sarah's head spun. Mrs Hughes, a bleeding fairy godmother? Bit much to take in really.

"Goodnight, Sarah"

She didn't even notice Mrs Hughes leave, nor her blatant use of her first name. 'Do what you must'…The words rang in her ears and she lay down, fully dressed, on the bed.

The nightgown lay beside her head. It smelt of him. Earthy, musky, manly.

She fell asleep like that, curled up with his memory watching over her.

* * *

><p>The train whistle blew<p>

10:18

The Grantham family all assembled at the first class end of the train to wave Matthew Crawley off to war.

10:19

John Knight loads his luggage into the lowest class possible at the other end of the train, further down the platform from the gaggle of Granthams. The house is locked up and he had handed the keys back to Carson, who's face had been grim. No one said goodbye.

10:20

Sarah stands behind him in the station doorway. Dressed simply, no servant's uniform today. Brown skirts, white shirt, nice hat. She doesn't clear her throat or give any indication that she is there. Waiting for him to turn.

Matthew boards the train. Mary grasps his hand but is pushed out of the way by Mrs Crawley, desperate to see her son one more time.

10:21

John turns around

10:22

Sarah smiles weakly at him.

"Sorry"

John smiles weakly back.

10:23

Train whistle blows urgently.

10:24

Sarah takes the leap of faith and steps towards John, hand out to him, ready to shake so they can depart as friends.

John steps towards her at the same instant.

They are standing too close. Steam from the train billows around them hiding them from the world.

No words

Train whistles blows again. The last time.

John leans down and kisses her.

The world stops.

She brings her hands up to his face and strokes his cheeks. His hands tremble as he finds her waist and hugs her against him tightly. Somehow the hug, the closeness, is more important then the kiss.

"Come back to me" Sarah breaths in a whisper. John kisses her forehead.

The world speeds up. Too fast.

10:25

John boards the train and it pulls away from Downton, away from safety, away from Sarah.

10:26

John waves until he can't see the station anymore.

Sarah simply stands and watches the train draw out of sight.

Along the platform the Grantham gaggle stares. They have seen everything.


	8. Into the Truth

Day's dragged slowly by at Downton Abbey. All too quickly they turned into weeks and before Sarah could pluck up the courage to sit down at her dressing table and write John a letter a month had passed. Her routine seemed to be becoming more and more predictable everyday; lace her ladyships corset, mend her ladyships torn gown, and unlace her ladyships corset. Sleep. Sarah would have probably have forgotten to eat if Mrs Hughes hadn't forced her physically to sit down at the servants hall table.

The heat of summer turned to the molten brown of autumn. It was grey and depressing and the mood clung to everyone. Except Daisy who was taking every opportunity to smile and talk with William the footman, pleased he could finally talk to her with Thomas gone to war.

Strangely Sarah didn't miss Thomas. They had left their friendship on bad terms but she didn't regret it. Maybe it was his rudeness towards John, his unashamed poke at her heart that sent her against him.

For gods sakes! What was she twittering on about hearts for? It was really quite ridiculous.

But still at with every morning post she looked out for his letters with hope.

* * *

><p>"What do you think, O'Brien?"<p>

"…the blue one m'lady"

Lady Grantham sighed.

"O'Brien, you are holding up two dresses. Neither of them are blue."

"Oh"

Sarah looked at the garments she was holding up. One was a red evening gown and the other a white lace summer day dress. She put them both back into the wardrobe quickly and pulled out the blue gown she had meant to choose in the first place. Lady Grantham watched her in silence, not sure how to approach the subject of the train station, the day she had seen Sarah O'Brien as a person, not simply her ladies maid. There was no subtle way to say it, so Lady Grantham decided to go with the blunt way.

"You kissed our Gardener at the Train Station"

It wasn't a question, merely a statement of fact.

Sarah stood in shock.

"Why?"

"Why, what m'lady?"

"Why did you kiss him?"

Sarah was completely taken aback. Why had she kissed him? Because he was going to die? Because it was the last time she would ever see him? Because…

"I love him"

It was Lady Granthams turn to sit, silent in shock. Sarah stood by the wardrobe, unsure whether to simply dive in and hide behind all her ladyships' dresses, anything to spare her the humiliation of the truth she had just blurted out.

"Does he know?"

Sarah shook her head. Did he know? Probably not. He almost certainly just thought it was a heat of the moment thing. Why was she discussing her private life with Lady Grantham anyway? Sarah felt the searing pain of guilt flash through her again and found she couldn't look at her ladyship anymore.

"O'Brien?"

Silence

"You should tell him"

Silence

"If you don't I shall write to him myself"

"Please don't!"

Lady Grantham smirked in triumph. "And why ever should I not? It's making you terribly difficult to communicate with! It's been a while hour and I'm still sitting here in my nightgown"

"I…I want to tell him meself…"

"Then do so!"

Sarah met Lady Granthams sparkling eyes and couldn't help but smile. It was now very obvious that her ladyship had been teasing. Sarah blushed, how could she be so foolish.

"I promise I will"

Lady Grantham smiled and stretched. "I think I shall have a bath before I dress anyway, Sarah"

Sarah's good mood vanished instantly.

* * *

><p>Dear Sarah<p>

How are you?

Dear Sarah,

I miss you

Dear Sarah,

I love you…

John sighed in dissatisfaction.

He scribbled out another letter opening. He had no ideas how to put his feeling down into words. It didn't help that there was a constant rattling and shouting above him over the top of the trenches. The war was, essentially, a waiting game. And John hated it. Everywhere was muddy and dirty and dead. No room to grow flowers for keep the grass neat, barbed wire curled around the trenches and man sat in gloom.

It was raining.

He tucked the soggy piece of paper safe into his pocket and tipped his head back slightly, letting the rain cool his aching face and shoulders. He knew it would do him no good to get cold but it really couldn't be helped. Somewhere close by a loud blast sounded and part of the trench immediately to his right was blown to bits. His ears rang, quickly he checked himself, he wasn't hurt. He couldn't say the same for the poor buggers whose leg stuck out of the fallen earth. As he helped to clear away the rubble and bodies John let his mind drift back to his favourite memory; Sarah holding him at the train station. Her lips against his ear 'Come back to me', it wasn't some sentimental twaddle, more like an order. He would.

He had promise himself he would see her again.

* * *

><p>Sarah sat at the servants table sewing up a hole in her ladyships underskirts. It was tedious work but somehow it soothed her, having something to do. It had been 5 months she had seen him last. Christmas had come and gone. She'd sent him a pair of knitted gloves. His letters were few and short. She kept them all under her pillow, bundled up in his nightgown. The nightgown didn't really smell of him anymore.<p>

Elsie Hughes stood in the doorway behind her. Smiling.

"Someone's here to see you, Sarah"

Sarah turned round sharply to berate Mrs Hughes for using her first name but found herself speechless in the face of John Knight standing behind Mrs Hughes.

He grinned.

"Hello"

Sarah gripped the chair for support and stood to greet him. He shook her hand. It felt woolly. She looked down. He was wearing his Christmas present.

"Let's go fer a walk"

John took her by the arm and slowly they walked the grounds of Downton. It felt so strange, unreal to be walking together. Sarah had to keep checking he was real, that he stood beside her.

"I'm on leave."

"I guessed that"

"Only for a couple of days…I had to see you"

His grip on her arm tightened and they stopped walking.

Sarah gulped and tried to pull herself together. Just say it. He needs to know. She looked into his eyes and realised she didn't really know him at all. She couldn't read his expression and she knew nothing of his family, childhood or favourite foods.

But she loved him.

John looked down at Sarah and resisted the urge to brush the hair away that had escaped her bun. She looked very stern. He recalled the first time he had seen her; dead, lifeless. He still didn't know why she had walked into the river. He didn't really know her at all.

But he loved her.

John took Sarah's hand and held it, stroking it using his thumb. They both stared at what he was doing.

"Marry me?"

_Authors note: Reviews really make my day! Please? It only takes a few moments! _


	9. Into the Question

"Marry me?"

Sarah felt her body tense up and she stared at John in shock. He looked earnestly down at her. His hand still holding hers. A terrible conflict of emotions clutched at Sarah's heart. She was the worst kind of person; hateful, deceptive and horribly sarcastic. A murderer. How was she ever worthy of this mans love? She fought the urge to cry. Rejection was really the only way forward. He wouldn't want to chain himself to her.

But then he placed his hand on her shoulders and pulled her closer to him, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

The tension she had been holding her body in released and she relaxed into his arms. She couldn't bring herself to hug him with her arms, it felt like too much of a betrayal, but instead she nestled into his chest with her head and drew comfort from the warmth it gave out in the cool January frost.

She loved him. Plain and simple.

John didn't press her for an answer. If she said no, that was fine, his fate was written in the stars, death by bullet in the trenches. Repentance for the murderer. Justice at last.

The stood clumsily together in that strange in embrace for a long time.

"Did yer get me letters?" Sarah's voice was muffled by his shirt. John smiled into her hair and held her tighter.

"Yes"

They stood in pause, as if someone had frozen them…a picture of a lifetime of regret.

"Thank yer"

"For what?"

"Saying goodbye to me at the train station. I didn't think you'd come"

"Neither did I"

Sarah smiled at the romanticism of it all. It wasn't really her style but she like it. A different life, a better life. If only it could last.

They broke apart abruptly as a twig snapped behind them. Only a bird. They exchanged nervous smiles.

"I came back, just like yer asked"

John held his arms out to prove he was real. Sarah smirked weakly at him. He looked well, as rough as ever, but he was whole. No bullet marks.

"Yer've torn yer sleeve"

She held out her hand to his arm and tentatively touched the fraying material at his elbow. Grazed by a bullet? The image brought tears to her eyes and she quickly composed herself and shook them away. No tears today. She had to be strong and brave. Like him.

"I can mend it fer yer" Sarah stepped away, a respectable distance. Touching him had sparked that strange burning down her spine again. She had not felt it for months. Not since he had pushed her roughly against a table in a fit of passion.

Tension hung in the air between them.

"I'd like that" John nodded, fighting to urge to take her down to his cottage and do everything he had been longing for whilst in those unforgiving muddy trenches.

A twig snapped again, louder and they both jumped. Sarah's immediate reaction was to grab Johns arm, whilst his had been to pulled her behind him away from the gunfire. Silence suspended itself around them and after a moment of doubt they both laughed the panic off.

They had moved closer together, less than a few breaths away from each other.

John bit the proverbial bullet and kissed her. In a moment months of waiting around for news of each others was rewarded with a single, very passionate, kiss. Respectability be damned! Sarah's arms clutched at his waist and he held her face against his, desperate never to let her go. After what seemed like a lifetime he pulled away.

"Yer will marry, won't yer?"

"Course I will, yer daft…"

He kissed her again. Bringing his arms down, under her arms and around her waist, lifting her off the ground. Sarah wound her arms around his neck and felt her feet leave the earth and in that instant she doubted she had even been this happy.

* * *

><p>"I beg your pardon?" Carson's voice rang out across the servant's hall in shock from Elsie's parlour.<p>

Daisy sat wide eyed at the table along with Anna, Bates and the rest of the staff. They were all leaned in, quiet, desperate to hear whatever was going on. O'Brien had come in about an hour earlier with a man in uniform no one recognised and practically dragged Mrs Hughes into Mr Carson's study and locked the door.

"What do yer thinks happened then?" Daisy piped up nervously. O'Brien usually gave her a swift glare and a cutting remark that Daisy never understood. "Maybe he's come to arrest her?"

"Don't be daft, Daisy!" Sensible Anna cut across the kitchen girl's chatter nicely "It's more likely to be something routine or bad news. Oh no, maybe one of her family has died. Anyway, why would O'Brien be arrested?"

"Dunno" Daisy muttered "…She's not very nice to me…"

Bates chuckled good naturedly at Daisy and smiled at Anna, holding her hand privately under the table.

In the parlour Elsie Hughes sat beaming at O'Brien and Mr Knight, who both stood uncomfortably in front of the desk. Charles looked as if it was physically hurting him to get his mind round what Knight had just told him. Sarah found Mrs Hughes smile incredibly disconcerting. It didn't help that Carson had to practically lie over the desk to get over the surprise of what they had just told him.

John and Sarah sat a respectable distance apart and didn't make eye contact. It was very difficult as all Sarah could think about was John's lovely large hands on her waist, pressing her to him.

"You wish to marry?" Carson spluttered for the umpteenth time in the last hour, still disbelieving "Tomorrow?"

John nodded curtly at him. "If that agreeable to yer, sir"

"Well, yes…but are you sure?"

Sarah breathed a noise of indignation. John placed his hand on her arm to calm her. Mrs Hughes positively giggled at the ridiculousness of the situation. Of all the people she thought they would having this conversation with O'Brien was the last person on her list, if fact, O'Brien didn't even make the list.

"Really, Charles, what is so difficult to understand. They simply wish to marry before Mr Knight goes back to the front. Come now, be reasonable."

Charles signed in exasperation.

The world had gone mad.

Out in the servant's hall Daisy had snuck next to the parlour door along with the cook and William. Anna and Bates sat, quite comfortable watching them from the table. They had been guessing what was being said inside the locked room and their ideas had been getting wilder and wilder with every minute.

Out of the blue the door burst open and Carson marched out. Everyone looked very hard to make it appear they were doing something constructive. Carson rolled his eyes and went stand by the kitchen door. The strange man in uniform followed him slowly, taking his time to raise his eyebrows questioningly at the staff as he past them. O'Brien and Mrs Hughes came out last.

Elsie took a second to enjoy to look of confusion on everyone's faces before announcing;

"Miss O'Brien is getting married tomorrow. She does hope you all can come to the ceremony"

Daisy nearly fell over in astonishment.


	10. Into the Wedding

Sarah on her own bed and stared at her shoes. Tomorrow morning she would be married. It seemed like a very cruel dream. The past few months had slipped by so slowly and she wondered vaguely if this was some sort of test. She had enjoyed the blatant looks of surprise of everyone's faces though. If she could she would have taken that image and stuck it in her bedroom wall so she could enjoy that moment for ever.

Lady Grantham had been please when Carson had made Sarah go up with him to the drawing room to tell her of the planned wedding. Her ladyships face had split into such a big grin that it nearly broke Sarah's heart, her guilt was not forgotten. It lay in the pit of her stomach and reared up its ugly head when ever she tried to move on.

Slowly she unbuttoned her dress and could not help but to smile when she realised it might be John, with his trembling hands, unlacing her from her dress tomorrow night.

He was sleeping in his old cottage by himself; just for tonight…tomorrow she would join him. Of course, she had technically slept in his bed before but it really hadn't been the same thing.

She slipped off her dress and petticoats and stood for a moment in her shift and corset. Looking out of her window.

A little light from a candle flickered in the river cottages window and Sarah wondered whether John was having the same nerves as she was.

Gently she unpinned her hair and felt the long curls unravel themselves from the strict confines of her bun. Out of habit she plaited it but then stopped half way down. What would John prefer tomorrow? A plait? Or it loose? The though of his gaze made her feel dreadfully nervous. What if he changed his mind at the last minute?

Sitting back down on the bed again she bent and unlaced her boots, not bothering to place them away nicely she kicked them across the floor so they lay gracelessly by the door. Her corset pressed uncomfortable unto her back and she unlaced it, sliding it off her shoulders with undue care. She tried to remember that night when he had undressed her, it memory only flickered through her head with a hazy outline. His rough hands on her waist, the warmth of his chest.

She wondered what tomorrow night would be like. Would he hold her? Kiss her? She would wake up in his arms, of that she was sure.

Sarah fell asleep with those wonderful thoughts still in her mind.

* * *

><p>Down in the river cottage John sat, shirtless, on his bed. His uniform jacket hung on the wall; a constant reminder of what he must go back to. Angry he picked it up and stuffed it into an empty draw so he wouldn't have to look at it anymore.<p>

Sarah had said yes!

John still couldn't believe it. She would be moving down to the cottage to live as a permanent home whilst he whilst at war. At least it was something he could leave her, a home, Lord Grantham had given it to him as a wedding present. It was almost as if he knew John wouldn't be coming back from the front next time. The very thought those gruesome trenches made John want to run and hide. But then he thought of Sarah, brave wonderful Sarah, who could survive anything.

It still made him angry when he thought of her walking into the river. She had been so calm, so composed. The dark silhouette against the natural glow of the water. How she had clung to him that night.

He resisted the urge to walk up to the house and demand to see her right now.

But no.

For the sake of her reputation he could not simply march into that hideously tense servant's hall again. Once had been enough and that had been with her practically dragging him by the hand!

He knew she had no family to speak of and neither did he, not now anyway. His brother had been killed in a pub brawl and his mother had died before he was released from prison. Prison. When did he tell Sarah about that? There was never a right time really. Maybe it was best not to? He was back to the trenches so damn soon.

He would see her again, after the war…It was a promise he vowed never to break.

* * *

><p>Cora snuggled into Robert and smiled wickedly. The look on her husbands face when O'Brien had announced her engagement had been priceless! And they would be married tomorrow. Cora felt such gratitude to O'Brien; the woman had saved her life after all. It was so lovely that she had a good man in her life. And such a shame he was off to war again so soon. No wonder O'Brien hadn't wanted to tell her, in these troubled times one could never be sure if it was love or simply the heat of the moment thing.<p>

Roberts voiced surprised her through the darkness "Do you think they just met at the train station and fell suddenly in love the day we sent Matthew to war?"

"No, darling, don't be silly. I believe she knew him long before that. Mrs Hughes said he saved her life…although she didn't seem to know what from"

"Maybe she meant it metaphorically dear; you know how O'Brien can be"

"Oh hush!" Cora giggled as her husband pulled her closer to him in the darkness.

* * *

><p>The morning sun rose.<p>

Sarah woke up early as usual dressed in her ladies maid gown and went to wake and dress her ladyship. She was amazed to find Lady Grantham already awake and in her dressing gown sitting on the bed, surrounded by clothes.

As Sarah entered the room with a horrible sense of dread her ladyship looked up and smirked with a terrible twinkle in her eye. "Ah! Dear O'Brien! I've looked through simply everything and can't decide what you should wear to church"

"Me?" Sarah spluttered, her feeling of foreboding confirmed.

"Yes of course you! It is your wedding day! You can't just wear any old thing!"

A few, very tedious, hours later Sarah was finally persuaded to wear a lace blouse that had belonged to Lady Granthams mother and a blue skirt with a scalloped hemline. Her ladyship was obviously enjoying herself immensely and it seemed to seal the unspoken bond between them, if only a little bit.

"What about you hair?"

Sarah sighed in frustration. It was going to be a very long morning.

* * *

><p>12:00<p>

Organ music plays

John stands stiffly in his green soldier's uniform at the front of the chapel.

Sarah stands beside him.

They don't hold hands. People are watching them.

12:10

Vows are said and the ceremony passes by uneventfully.

Lady Grantham smiles with fondness at dear O'Brien's wedding outfit.

Daisy shifts her feet nervously. William stands beside her, doubtfully. A soldier. That's what he should be, fighting for king and country. Maybe Daisy would look at him then.

Mrs Hughes sniffs then remembers herself. Carson stands in shock beside her.

12:20

John winks at Sarah when the Vicar isn't looking. It sends tingles down her spine.

12:30

Mr and Mrs Knight are married.

Sarah is Miss O'Brien no more.

_Authors Note: A massive thank you to all my reviewers! It means so much to me and really makes me so happy to read your lovely comments! Special mention to cookie-moi for reviewing every single chapter__! Xxx_


	11. Into the Bed

Mr and Mrs Knight walked back to River Cottage slowly. Sarah held Johns arm almost hesitantly. Both were very aware of how much of themselves they might have given away to the rest of the Downton inhabitants during the ceremony.

Their kiss had been only a soft peck on the lips, in fact they hadn't even touched. It was like they were breaking some unspoken code by letting other people see them together. They hadn't really acknowledged their love for each other yet. It was physical, rather than spoken. They had always seemed to find it difficult to communicate their feeling to others but here it worked. Sitting in each others company was enough.

The wedding didn't seem to be the important thing.

That night did.

Lady Grantham had given Sarah or "Mrs Knight' as she now called her with too much enthusiasm, the rest of the day off and as John no longer worked at Downton they both had time to share with each other.

Only once they were back at the cottage they became unexpectedly shy with each other.

"Would yer like a cup of tea?"

Sarah nodded and sat down clumsily at the table. She watched him boil the water over the stove in his soldier's uniform.

"Give me yer jacket and I'll mend it" Mrs Hughes was probably having a fit looking at Johns scruffiness during the wedding.

John turned and shrugged the jacket off and handed it to her over the table.

Their hands brushed. Making tea seemed so incredibly mundane compared to the lightening that had just shot through Johns arm but he waited. He was not about to mess this up.

Sarah took incredible care in sewing up the torn sleeve, making her stitches neat and small. John placed a mug of tea in front of her and walked round the table to stand behind her, staring out of the window.

They both were silent.

The afternoon sun streamed through the window but John walked abruptly into the bedroom and shut the door behind him. Sarah raised her eyebrows and made to follow him but he called out to her through the door

"Hang on a mo, I'm just gettin' changed"

It briefly flickered through Sarah's mind that it would be very fun to help him get changed but she continued to sew and, after a moment, heard the bedroom door swing open behind her.

"Comin'?" John's voice sounded torn between a command and amusement.

Sarah didn't turn. Simply placed the green jacket on the table and then felt his lovely large hands on her shoulders. She leaned back into him and felt him stroke her hair, freeing it from its twists and coils.

"Come on, I've got somethin' ter show yer..."

He took her hand and led her into the bedroom. She gasped. The room was dark as the curtains had been drawn but there was a warm glow cast around the room by hundreds of little candles, flickering as if anticipation.

"It's just...it's so beautiful!...How did yer ever..."

John placed his arms gently around her waist and she fell silent. He pulled her into him yet still standing behind her. He kissed her neck and felt her nuzzle into his lips. Slowly, almost teasingly he ran his hand slightly down her sides, starting at her shoulders all the way down to the top of her legs. Her dress was bulky and he could feel the petticoats beneath her skirts. She smelt lovely.

Sarah felt as if she were finally having that mental breakdown that had been following her around ever since he had first kissed her that day she had sat next to a log pile in a threadbare nightshirt. His rough fingers brushed teasingly against her waist and she ached to free herself of the abundance of material that was Lady Grantham's least liked clothes.

She turned around and found his lips on hers; pressing herself against him she returned the enthusiasm with which he was kissing her. Softly he raised his hands to unbutton her shirt and they broke apart for a moment, their eyes meeting, sparkling full of lust and excitement. His hands did not tremble as he slowly unbuttoned her, he was strong and in command of his desire.

He removed the shirt and placed it lightly over the back of the chair. Sarah let her skirts fall to the floor around her and stepped out of them, unbuttoning John's shirt with the quick skill of a ladies maid. At least all those years of service had finally come in useful! It was about bloody time, was Sarah's last logical thought before John, quite literally, swept her off her feet and took her to bed.

He kicked the door closed behind them.

If Sarah could have had one wish, one prayer in her life time she was now torn. Before it had always been to go back to that fateful day and to undo the terrible wrong she had done to her ladyship but now…now all she wanted was to relive that night over and over and over again. His rough hands on her bare skin, the adoring kisses he littered across her neck and the wonderful warmth of finally falling asleep in his arms. By that time the sky had been dark and the stars shone above them. John had pulled the curtains back so they could watch them; they lay in bed, tangled up in the sheets watching the world sleep. And it was so beautiful.

One by one the candles guttered out.

The sun stretched its sleepy head and the grounds around Downton Abbey burned gold.

Sarah stirred.

The clock on the wall next to her read 4:00 in the morning.

She was alone.

The bed was empty.

John stood in the doorway, fully dressed, lightly tracing the place where she had sew up the tear on his sleeve.

Sarah gathered up the sheets around her and felt like crying, she had known he would have to go this morning, why did it feel like such a betrayal?

"I'm not sure I can saw goodbye…" John's voice was tense. He looked away from her, into the kitchen.

"I'll get dressed, take yer to the station"

"No Sarah"

Half way out of bed Sarah stopped at the harshness in his voice. The sheets were curled up uselessly around her and her hair tickled her back annoyingly. It made her so angry that he had to go…it was not him she was angry with but she could help the tone of her voice.

"And why not? Ashamed of me now or summat?"

"Oh…"

John flung himself to face her and all but fell into her arms. He clutched at her, not with control as he had done last night but with fear. They stood in each others arms for a long time, or so it seemed. John kissed her forehead and Sarah caught his face in her hands, holding up the sheet awkwardly. His eyes were damp and red lined. He was obviously terrified; she would have to be brave for them both. Her Knight in shining armour. Crying didn't make her disgusted at him as he had thought. Instead she pulled him closer, snuggled into her chest, told him how very brave he was and rocked him soothingly.

"Yer'll see me again…shhh…I'll keep yer safe"

"…Yer breaking me heart Sarah" John finally spoke. It tore at her very core. He had to go, there was no stopping the ever rushing, man eating monster that was this war. But it would end. Some day. And until that day she would never stop believing in him.

"I'm goin' ter be late fer me train." John wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve.

One last kiss.

And then he was gone to war.

Just like that.

Sarah cried herself back to sleep.


	12. Into the Battle

Sarah sat at her own kitchen table in her own house. The River Cottage was hers to live in. What a difference it made to her mood, having this space away from Downton house.

She was half way between her O'Brien mask and Sarah. This was a new chance and she would treat it as such.

A few weeks had passed since John had gone back to the front.

Life at Downton had continued on as normal, Daisy still couldn't cook, Anna still made goofy eyes at Mr Bates when she thought no one else was looking and Lady Grantham sighed with joyful gusto every time she saw Sarah. It broke her heart. All this new life she was experiencing felt so wrong. Sarah should still be punishing herself.

Slowly as the morning sun rose she walked across the grounds to the servant's entrance. The grass lightly sparkled with mildew and it damped the hem of her skirts, darkening the already black fabric.

At the door she paused and found the scene at the servants table was sombre.

William sat in a soldier's uniform in his usual spot by the end of the table.

Daisy hovered behind him eyes red. Mrs Hughes stood, bristling angrily by

Carson. The tension was unbearable. William looked up as he heard Sarah's footsteps.

"O'Brien will agree with me! Its for King and country! An honour!"

"No" the smallest of sounds escaped Sarah's lips at William outburst. She didn't even bother the correct his slip of the tongue with her old name. This lad, so young, so wimpy, had signed himself up to the war monsters guard.

At her noise the rest of the kitchen also burst into a noisy debate. Daisy began to cry silently at the back, where William couldn't see her. Mr Bates stood white faced in the opposite doorway, Anna looked at him with fear, and she could see the cogs working in his mind. Last man left, apart from Carson. How long would his pride allow him to stay?

Sarah felt her nasty mask slip back on in defence of the argument unfolding in the kitchen. William was red faced in the effort it was taking him to stand up to Mrs Hughes.

"You cannot go, you're only a boy!" Elsie's voice went high pitched at the end in an attempt to control her spiralling feelings for the lad. He was a child and her maternal instinct told her he should not go to the war, they would never see him again.

"I am a man!" William matched Mrs Hughes pitched tone of voice and sounded less like a man then ever.

Sarah walked through the kitchen to the stairs that led up through the house. Elsie caught her just as she had nearly escaped.

"Mrs Knight, please support me in this!"

The room feel quiet. Sarah felt everyone's gaze fall upon her. She turned.

"Yer a fool, William" Sarah fought to control the emotion that was building up in her voice, not for William but for John. "Either way yer a fool. If yer go, yer won't come back and if yer stay..." Sarah trailed off.

The room collectively stared at her.

"Goodbye Knight"

"Goodbye William"

With a curt nod she turned ascended the stairs. The babble broke again in the kitchen in a continuation of the heated argument. Sarah breathed slowly to calm herself. Her hands shook on the stair rail. She knew that boy would; go, no matter what was said to him. She could not let the rest of the staff see her so vulnerable, she composed herself and walked on to dress her ladyship.

A month passed.

William went to fight as he wished. Bates followed him soon afterwards.

Another month passed.

Lord Grantham sat in his study, unsure of how to take the news he had just read in a telegram. He was called to the war office in London. Finally he had a chance to be apart of the war effort. Sarah sat with her Ladyship in her bedroom as she sobbed.

"At least he's not going to the front, m'lady. He'll come back to us in no time"

"I'm sorry Knight, crying myself silly when your husband is out on the frontline"

Sarah felt a lump stick in her throat and she felt her arms stiffen around her ladyship. Cora immediately noticed the change in her maid's composure and realised with horror that she had said exactly the wrong thing. Gingery she patted O'Brien, Knight Damn it! Knight, on the back and moved away from her.

"He'll be home soon"

"Of course he will m'lady"

Sarah had meant Lord Grantham. Cora had meant Lord Grantham as well. It never crossed her mind that Knight might be in more turmoil than she at this moment; although she was well aware of her recent marriage, Knight was still her maid in her mind. As she rightly should be.

"I think I shall wear the white lace dress to day, I haven't worn it in so long not since…"

Not since the day of the garden party. The day the war was announced. The day Sarah had thought the most important thing in the world was guarding her ladyship from the outside world. And her ladyships own mind. The baby was not long lost.

"M'lady, I…" Sarah trailed off uselessly. How did she even begin to explain? To apologise for what she had done? "I'm finished."

"Thank you, Dear Mrs Knight" Lady Grantham squeezed Sarah's hand affectionately and Sarah felt a wave nausea hit her and she left the room at her ladyships dismissal. Her heart squeezing tightly in her chest. John would write soon. His last letter must just have got lost in the post. He would write soon. She brushed aside the shaking ill feeling as nerves.

That night she dreamt she was drowning in the river.

This time there was no John to save her.

She awoke in the darkness drenched in sweat and pulled the curtains back, looking for the stars. With shaky hands she lit a cigarette and it familiar movements of smoking calmed her. The sky was clouded and grey. But she took comfort that somewhere out there he was looking at the same sky.

* * *

><p>John sat in his little hovel in the trench staring at the floor. He clutched Sarah's last letter in his hand. The paper was so crumpled now it was hardly readable but he kept it where he could see it. It was strange talking to the lads about his wife back home, he had no photo like most of the boys who treasured the black and white portraits as if they were little gods to guide them home safe. He simply had his favourite memories locked away in his heart where he could loose them in the heat of battle. Not that there had been that much fighting, every so often they went of the top in one big push but it was mostly sitting and waiting whilst the bullets whizzed past the barbed wire and the explosions shot their nerves to pieces.<p>

John looked up as he saw boots striding with purpose towards him. It was Matthew Crawley, heir to Downton Abbey. John jumped to attention to greet him, taking care not to rise above the trench wall level.

"All's well I hope?" Matthew enquired softly.

"All's quiet here, Sir" John grimly replied as gunfire sounded loudly to their far right. "If yer don't mind me sayin' so, Sir, I know yer from back home….Me wife works at Downton Abbey"

"Oh? Matthew smiled at the polite and friendly voice in the mist of the terror "And who is your wife?"

"Sarah O'Brien, as was, Sir. Now she's Mrs Knight. Ladies Maid to Lady Grantham…" John trailed off at the look of unconcealed disbelief on his superiors face.

He grinned good naturedly.

"Most people have that reaction Sir"


	13. Into the Reality

Easter came and went uneventfully.

Sarah felt her life slipping back in to its old routine and felt as if the old house was beginning to fall apart around her. Daisy didn't smile anymore and Anna rarely said a word to anyone. Carson seemed to be ageing 5 years everyday that passed, he was rushed off his feet doing every mans job in the house; Butler, Valet, Chauffeur, Footman...you could almost see little pieces of his soul breaking away as the war dragged on.

Sarah found herself spending more and more time sitting in the servant's hall for dinner instead of alone in her cottage. She still didn't particularly enjoy their company but it was better listening to mindless chatter otherwise her mind fixed on John and the terrors he was facing. Still no letters had come from the front.

That evening the sky was a little lighter now and Sarah stood outside the servant's kitchen smoking. It was strangely quiet for that time of evening; Carson pottered around the table with a look of extreme concentration on his face. Sarah looked out at the grounds again and blew smoke in to the air; it swirled on the breeze comfortingly.

"ARRGGGHHHHH!"

A terrible cry came from the parlour followed swiftly by a loud crash.

Sarah snapped around and flew into the room. Carson lay on the floor, breathing laboured, face red and eyes closed. She stood above him, unsure what to do and completely panicked. Then footsteps clattered down the servants stairs and Sarah jumped into action quickly, bending down over him and placing her hands against his neck to check his pulse.

"Call fer the doctor!"

For a moment it seemed as if no one was there to hear her but then Daisy appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Face pale and out of breath.

Quieter this time Sarah breathed "Call the doctor and fetch Mrs Hughes"

Daisy ran off wide eyed and Sarah sat down on the floor next to Carson and, with reluctance, took his hand in hers.

"Its alright, hold on..." She trailed off. He had squeezed her hand.

A few seconds more of the awkward silence and then it seemed as if the whole staff at Downton had surrounded her, chattering loudly and nervously.

Sarah glanced up and caught Mrs Hughes's pale expression.

The woman looked terrified.

Night fell and Downton Abbey spent the night in a worried, tense state. The next morning was no better. The Doctor had been and gone and the news was bad.

Sarah stood outside again. Smoking, again.

Carson had suffered a heart attack.

She suddenly felt as if she were being watched and turned around to see Mrs Hughes standing behind her, mouth open as if wanting to speak but unable to find the words.

"Cat got yer tongue?" Sarah raised an eyebrow enquiringly.

"Might I speak with you a moment?"

"As yer wish"

They went and sat in Carson's study and Sarah could not help but to cast her mind back to the moment she and John had told him they where to be married. Would Carson recover? She knew the house would fall apart at the seams if Carson was not there.

Elsie settled herself on the sofa in the corner of the room and stared at her shoes. Sarah stood uncomfortably by the door and waited, back stiff and guards up.

"I...I just wanted to thank you, O'Brien...Charles says you save him"

Sarah would have blushed if she could have done, but really she was above such things. After all, she hadn't really done anything. She was about to say so when Mrs Hughes interrupted her.

"I do care very much for him, you know."

Sarah almost rolled her eyes with the obviousness of it all.

"Course yer do."

"It's just I sometimes think…O'Brien?"

A sudden feeling of sickness washed over Sarah and she blanched pale white and covered her mouth with her hand. Then she abruptly ran out of the room and threw up outside the kitchen door.

Mrs Hughes followed her slowly, her mind on Carson and patted her back sympathetically. "There, there..."

"Don't fuss, I've just got a bit of flu...me house is ever so cold when its just me..." Sarah trailed off and bit her lip. The reminder of how alone she felt without John stung her. "I'm sorry…Go an' see Mr Carson, he needs yer more than I do"

Mrs Hughes needed no more encouragement. With a small smile she touched Sarah's shoulder with what could have been affection and walked towards the sleeping quarters of the house.

Sarah let out a long drawn out sigh and leant against the wall. It was just nerves, she told herself, just worrying to much. The rest of the day slipped by in a daze.

* * *

><p>Matthew Crawley saw a lot of John over his time in the trenches. It was nice to glimpse a familiar face. John always greeted him with a cheery wave and had a spare cigarette. They often talked of Downton and the people there. John noticed how much Matthew drew the conversation towards Lady Mary but didn't comment.<p>

John often found himself touching the mend on his sleeve with fondness. The stitches were small and neat and brisk, much like Sarah. He hadn't had a letter from her in weeks, it had crossed his mind that maybe she wasn't receiving his letters but he brushed it aside.

It was late afternoon and John looked along to the right of the trench to see Matthew making his way through the mud towards him, right on time. He smiled and held up his mug of tea in greeting.

A shell shot over their heads and sunk into the opposite trench wall between them.

It didn't explode.

The line of men along the wall let of a collective sign of relief.

John felt wrong footed.

There was a faint hissing noise and John looked at the shell in confusion. No one else seemed to have noticed the sound.

A solider named Harry began to cough further down the line.

Then another man coughed, and another and then Matthew.

Everything fell into slow motion.

Poisoned gas began to sink into every mans lungs along the trench.

John tried to move to protect Matthew but found the man already on his hands and knees, eyes watering and red rimmed.

All around him the men fell on by one, chocking on their own lungs. John felt his breath hitch and his vision seemed to smudge like when water drips on to ink. He tried to pull Matthew to his feet, if they could just run away from the descending smoke they would be safe…Then explosions to their right and left lifted the soldiers off their feet and the world spun, mud splattered and the trench walls collapsed around them.

John coughed, his face down in the mud. He tried to turn his head and found himself staring directly into the unseeing eyes of Matthew Crawley, the dead heir to Downton. The man was waxy in complexion and his limbs twisted around him at odd angles. John scrabbled to his hands and knees and attempted to lift Matthews's body to safety. He couldn't even lift himself. His fingers felt numb and as his vision clouded over he could see blood leaking though his green jacket. He pressed his hand against it in an attempt to stem to flow and found it didn't hurt him.

John thought of Sarah lying next to him in bed, they looked up at the stars together. Hundreds and hundreds of stars. He kissed her bare shoulder and she snuggled into him. Her long hair smelt clean, of soap.

She smiled at him.

Men's agonised shouts echoed all around him.

John closed his eyes and the world went black.

* * *

><p>Sarah awoke in the middle of her bed breathing heavily. It was the early hours of the morning and something felt terribly wrong. The sheets stuck to her skin. Her long plait had come undone.<p>

Just a bad dream.

John was due home on leave in a few weeks, Sarah smiled as that wonderful thought sent her back to calm sleep.

_Authors Note: I feel this story stands alone from the second series as I am writing it in advance! This is what I believe should happen...if there are simularites please don't think of them as spoilers becuase they really aren't. Nothing in my story is exactly the same as the TV series! I don't own Donton Abbey, if I did don't you think this storyline would be the one on TV? Please R&R, it means a lot! Xxx_


	14. Into the Nightmare

In early April Sarah felt fat. Too much comforting eating she supposed. She smoked too much as well, probably.

No letter from John.

May came and it rained continually.

Sarah wrote John a 14 page letter but torn it up in a rage before she could post it. Why was there no word?

Daisy had taken to checking the Newspapers lists of men lost or wounded in action for William.

In June the sun came out and the heat annoyingly wafted through Downton, causing the servants to become irritated with each other.

Sarah washed John's old nightgown and it feel apart in her hands. She folded up the old fabric and placed it underneath her pillow.

A week later news came that Thomas had been shot for cowardice. Mrs Hughes sat at the servants table stunned, holding the letter in her hand, Carson stood behind her. He had recovered well and, under Elsie's supervision, was working again.

July was very hot.

Sarah's corset felt too tight.

Bates came home on leave for a few days. He stood in his uniform before Lord Grantham and shook his hand. Anna stood beside Sarah and watched him, proudly.

That evening Sarah cornered Bates and asked him for news of the front. He had none.

August dawned bright and sunny.

Lady Grantham strolled happily around the grounds with her husband. Sarah followed them at a distance dutifully, feeling heavy and dizzy.

She watched Daisy hurrying across the grounds, back from her afternoon off with a new newspaper under her arm. Sarah closed her eyes in frustration. Every week the girl brought a paper and poured through the lists, no one was sure what she was expecting to find…maybe a big sign that read 'William is coming home and never has to fight again'? Sarah sighed. Fat chance.

That night Sarah went to bed early without dinner. She was feeling very unsettled, probably just the heat.

Too easily she slipped into her old nightmare of war.

Thump!

Sarah woke with a start. She had fallen out of bed. Groaning she pushed herself up and the floor swam beneath her, she must have hit her head. Slowly she pulled herself up and settled down back into John's big bed. Quite naturally her hand lay on her tummy, soothing the small pain she unconsciously felt there.

The daybreak broke uncomfortably and the heat simmered on the grounds. Sarah walked up to the house. The staff sat around the table in sombre silence. Mrs Hughes raised her eyes when Sarah came in and cleared her throat with difficulty, she felt as if she were going the cry. Carson took Elise's hand.

Daisy was the one to pipe up, breaking the tension painfully.

"Mrs Knight?"

"Yes?"

Silence.

"Well, spit it out girl" Sarah felt her temper fray.

Daisy squeaked and looked to Mrs Hughes for guidance.

"Daisy found a name on the missing presumed dead list in yesterday's paper."

Sarah felt the blood freeze in her veins and put her hand out to support herself on the doorframe.

"Who?"

"John Knight"

Sarah didn't react. Just blinked a couple of times.

"Right. Well…I'll go and dress her ladyship…"

She walked numbly to the stairs. No one stopped her. Anna felt a tear slip from her eye and rubbed it away before anyone could notice. Mrs Hughes looked at Carson and their eyes met, this time the silent inward conversation could be heard by the whole room. Didn't Sarah care?

"Sarah, I don't think you understand. Your husband…"

Sarah cut across her from the doorway without turning to face them. Her voice was crisp and harsh. "I understand perfectly."

Lady Grantham twittered happily as Sarah dressed her.

She just couldn't process the information. It wasn't true. How could it be?

It took a long time to create the waves of the new hairstyle her ladyship had wanted this morning, the new fashion. Sliding the pins into Lady Granthams hair Sarah stared out of the window, unseeing, not paying attention to what she was doing.

"Ouch! O'Brien watch what your doing" Lady Grantham sounded un-necessarily exasperated.

Sarah snapped.

"Fer God's sakes, It's Mrs bloody Knight!"

Her ladyship gasped and turned around, ready to berate her maid for such insolence.

Sarah stood wide eyed at what had just slipped from her own mouth. Her pulse raced unpleasantly.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean…Oh!" Sarah broke off abruptly at the sudden pain in her stomach. She involuntarily shuddered and found her ladyship standing face to face with her.

"Sarah?" Her ladyship's voice was kind and soft, unbearable.

Sarah exited the room quickly. Leaving Lady Grantham half dressed and surprised at her maids sudden outburst.

That afternoon Sarah sat in disgrace at the servant's table sewing. Anna had been set up to help her ladyship. Mrs Hughes was caught between sympathy and anger, Sarah's reaction to the news this morning had been completely unexpected. Elsie had been expecting tears or at least the need for a hot cup of tea, but that wasn't really O'Brien's style.

The servant's dinner came all too swiftly.

It wasn't dark outside and the heat prickled everyone, not helping with the general mood of the house.

Sarah ate very little and fought the pain her chest and stomach. Breathing felt complicated. She supposed this was what they called a delayed reaction. Elsie noticed Sarah's clutched white fist on the dinner table next to the plate and reach over to touch it softly with her hand. It was obviously the wrong thing to do. Sarah took in a deep, shuddering breath and felt tears beginning to run down her cheeks.

Damn the humiliation.

She sobbed for a moment before attempting to excuse herself. Elsie put a firm hand on her arm to stop her. The table was silent, unsure of what to do.

"No, please don't…I can't stand yer pity"

Sarah pushed herself up from the table with difficulty and walked quickly out of the servant's door, with the intention of making her way back to the river cottage.

Daisy brought the tray of potatoes in and stared at the floor in confusion.

"Has someone hurt themselves?"

Elsie turned around to look where the kitchen girl was looking and found a terrible lump stuck in her throat. Little splatters of red blood dotted the wooden floor, in a trail that lead from the table to the door. She let out an appalled gasp and turned to look at the empty seat next to her, the sight that met her eyes was sickening. The floor around the chair was sticky with dark blood. Anna leapt out of her seat next to it with a panicked yelp. Carson looked on the verge of another collapse. Elsie stood up with shaky confidence and began setting orders for everyone.

"Daisy telephone the doctor, Charles please help her, Millie and Jane will you both go to Lady Grantham and Lady Mary's rooms and do your duties as best you can." Elsie pause, trembling with foreboding "Anna, come with me."

Elsie raced out into the grounds and saw that Sarah was not too far from the cottage. The poor woman was obviously struggling. Anna ran ahead and was at her side in an instant, Sarah tried to push her away, muttering that she was alright, nothing was wrong… when the pain unexpectedly became unbearable and she screamed in despair.

6:32

Elsie helps a struggling Sarah to undress.

The baby bump is more than obvious once the corset is off.

Daisy unsteadily makes Carson a cup of tea in the servant's kitchen. They can hear the screams from the cottage as loudly as if they were there.

6:46

Anna brings extra pillows and clean towels down from the big house and stands in the doorway terrified.

6:51

Sarah looses consciousness

6:57

Anna takes the black servant's dress Sarah had been wearing and drops it on the floor outside the house. Her shaking hands are covered in blood. She throws up in fear.

6:59

The doctor arrives.

7:22

Sarah clutches Elsie's hand and cries out in pain.

9:17

Elsie cannot help but cry as she hands a small bundle to Sarah.

A little girl.

3 months early.

Dead.

9:18

John Knight wakes up in a hospital


	15. Into the Calm

"Did you know she was with child?"

Lady Granthams soft voice lacked its usual purr and sounded choked.

Elsie hung her head sadly. "No. None of us knew. I don't believe O'Brien even knew"

"It's Knight, actually" Cora bit her lip at her hasty name correction. She felt as if she should have noticed something was wrong, she knew the signs of pregnancy well enough now didn't she?

"Knight won't be able to work till she recovers fully"

"Of course"

Elsie took a deep breath to calm herself, for some reason last night had greatly affected her. It was such a shock.

"M'lady, I must say...Sarah is greatly changed...it may upset you"

"Nonsense, I've known her for years and she's seen me at my lowest and supported me and now is no different"

Cora leaned back into her chair as if it settled the matter and Elsie took the cue that she was dismissed.

Slowly she walked down the servant's stairs and couldn't help but to replay last night's horrors over and over again in her head. How could she not have realised? Anna was sitting with Sarah now, whilst she slept in an induced state. The doctor had thought it best; Sarah had been hysterical last night, howling with the pain and frantically screaming for John. It had broken Elsie's heart. For some strange reason she had come to respect Sarah Knight, maybe it was the fact the woman had saved both Lady Granthams and Charles life.

Elsie signed and walked down through the grounds to swap with Anna.

It was going to be a long Summer.

In the River Cottage it was very quiet. Sarah lay still, pale and death like in the bed. Anna kept smoothing the covers down unnecessarily to give herself something to mindlessly do instead of bursting into tears. Not that she had ever particularly liked O'Brien, but it was so much for one person to bear; to lose a husband and then a baby. For the rest of her life Anna knew she would be haunted by gruesomeness that was last night.

Elsie stood in the doorway of the house and stared at the table.

The baby lay still, all wrapped up in clean blankets. Its little pale face was cherub like and its features quiet, indistinct.

It had all been for nothing.

The poor child had never had a chance.

Born dead.

The day wore on and Elsie dismissed Anna and sat by Sarah side holding the child. It was comforting somehow to have something to cuddle. It gave last night some purpose. Elsie was under no illusions; she knew there was no bringing back a dead infant but she felt Sarah would want to see the child when she woke up. To hold it herself before they gave it a proper funeral.

Lady Grantham cleared her throat nervously in the hallway.

Elsie stood up and moved away from the bed, taking the child with her. It struck her too late that it might have been the wrong thing to do. Lady Grantham looked at the child in her arms and her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm so sorry, m'lady…I never thought..."

"No, It's good. I never got to see my little boy after…" Cora trailed off miserably. "Might I hold it?"

"Yes, of course." Elsie passed the baby to her ladyship carefully, even though no harm could be done to it now. "It's a little girl"

Lady Granthams face filled with maternal love. It light up her features and she supported the body with one arm whilst bring her other up to stroke the cold cheek.

"She's lovely." Cora paused "What colour are her eyes?"

"I'm sorry. I don't know m'lady. She never opened them."

"Oh"

Elsie smiled weakly and, rearranging the blanket needlessly around the baby's head, said "but I like to think that they are brown, like Sarah's"

At the sound of her name Sarah stirred. Her whole body felt numb and in a split second yesterday's nightmare came rushing back at her with venom. She sobbed silently, unaware of who was in the next room. Just want she deserved, a wicked little voice piped up in the back of her head. A life for a life. Justice at last.

The sounds she made caused Elsie to start and look into the bedroom.

"Sarah's awake"

"Might I talk with her a moment?"

"Are you sure your ladyship?"

Cora nodded and briskly walked briskly past Mrs Hughes into the bedroom. It was small and very modest. No photos, only a pile of letters on top of the chest of drawers. Sarah lay in the bed.

"Yer ladyship?"

Her voice was weak and hushed.

"Yes Knight?"

Sarah sighed and painfully pushed herself up. Now was as good a time as any to breath her secret. She was finally ready to face the truth, nothing left to lose now. But then she saw that Lady Grantham held her baby so tenderly.

She could never tell her.

"Forgive me."

Cora looked up, startled.

"For what?"

"Everything"

Lady Grantham looked as if she were about to push the question further but, taking Sarah's shaking outstretched hand, simply accepted it.

"Do you have a name?"

Sarah watched as her ladyship stroked the babies head. Somehow the pain of losing a child she never knew was hers seemed to help with her guilt. She still would never forgive herself but this set the balance of life on a more even line.

"I'd thought maybe Emma?"

Cora smiled. Emma. It was a pretty little name.

"If you don't mind, I would like to bury her next to my little boy. In the Grantham grave."

Sarah met her ladyship's sky blue eyes and was lost for words.

"Why?"

"It seems like the right thing to do."

Cora smiled sadly.

"You never know, perhaps this has prevented a future scandal; the Heir to Downton and the Gardener's daughter. Makes a lovely little story, doesn't it?"

Sarah nearly smirked at Lady Granthams' romanticism but found she couldn't. It was probably the first time in her life she had ever had a simple conversation with Cora Grantham, sitting there holding her baby and Sarah sitting in her husbands house in an old nightgown. At least all the blood had been cleaned up.

"Would you like to hold her?"

Sarah felt a strange lump in her throat and felt her body tremble with the on set of tears but held them back and accepted the bundle into her arms. Lady Grantham stood back and watched for a moment before excusing herself. Mrs Hughes had been right, Sarah had changed, she was a shell of the loud, outspoken woman she had been before.

Sarah held her daughter in her arms. It felt extraordinary. How had she not noticed something so obvious was growing inside of her? The baby was a tiny little thing with a miniature nose and perfect pale lips.

Sarah cried calmly.

Outside it was raining. Just like the first time she had met John. He would never meet his daughter.

And she would never see him again.

The funeral was a quiet, small gathering. Mrs Hughes held Sarah's arm in support and when she tried to push her away Elsie told her not to be so silly. Sarah burst into tears at her kindness. Life had distorted. People had changed. The war had altered everyone, especially John Knight.

He lay in a bed in a hospital he didn't know the name of.

The chart at the end of his bed read;

Name: Unknown

_Authors Note: Special thanks to Cookie-Moi, Tammy and Katie Duggan's Niece for their continuing support and lovely reviews Xxx_


	16. Into the Silence

The hot summer months turned into gloomy autumn followed swiftly by a cold, depressing winter. Sarah sat in the servant's hall nursing a cup of tea.

The mood of the house was miserable.

No one had heard from the front in a long time. Mary had no news of Matthew, Daisy had no news of William and Sarah had given up John for lost. There was no use waiting for a dream to come home. Sarah still felt she didn't deserve it.

A car wound its way up Downton's drive through the grounds and the diver got out and rung to bell at the main entrance. Lady Grantham raised her eyebrows in the drawing room where the rest of the family were taking tea and looked to her daughters for explanation. No one was expected to call today. Carson answered the door. The driver stood holding the arm of a man in a soldier's uniform.

The man was John Knight.

He looked ahead of himself unseeingly and said to the driver in a hushed, broken voice;

"Am I home?"

Carson stared at him, face ashen with shock.

The poor man was blind.

Down in the servant's hall the bell rang for Sarah. She looked up at it and signed. Painfully she stretched herself up and ascended the stairs to the parlour with a slow grace using the handrail to support herself. Mrs Hughes met her at the top with a strangely happy expression, in fact Sarah would have gone so far as to say it was joyous. Carson waited in the hall with Private Knight, unsure of what to say or do. The driver had given him his luggage and stood uneasily waiting.

Sarah entered the entrance hall as if in slow motion.

The first thing she saw was Carson who seemed completely lost for words, he gestured to his right uselessly.

That's when Sarah saw John.

She stopped and stared, unable to comprehend his presence.

He looked lost and old; abandoned in the doorway, holding the pillar for support. His eyes were a milky colour, unfocused. He didn't even look at her when she came in.

Sarah heard herself gasp and clasped her hand over her mouth the stifle the sobs that threatened to break the silence.

John turned his head towards the noise, completely disorientated. His world was black, he wouldn't be able to see a thing. Not Downton Abbey. Not Sarah.

"He asked to be brought to Downton Abbey, he said it was his home" the driver looked enquiring at Carson "There is the small matter of my fee?"

Carson cleared he throat angrily.

"I'm sorry..." John's voice rang out so feebly, tearing at Sarah's heart "I...I have no money, all I have is in my bag..." He walked forward awkwardly, arms outstretched. Elsie walked to meet him, looking back at Sarah in confusion.

"...I can't see..."

Elsie looked into Johns eyes and saw the truth; his gaze wavered blankly ahead of him. She turned to Sarah. The woman stood silently in the servant's doorway, arms around herself in comfort.

"I don't know who I am..." John trailed off. Sarah's stomach tightened painfully and she felt stupidly weak, clutching the wall for support and steadied herself. He was the invalid here, not her.

Eventually she spoke. "John?"

He didn't react.

Carson looked uncomfortable and suggested with quiet persuasion that they should continue this conversation downstairs. It took at long time to help John down the stairs, he was not yet used to his lack of sight and he stumbled constantly. Sarah held his arm, feeling the familiar heat in an alien man. This was not the strong man she married, the man she had fallen in love with when he had pushed her so roughly against a table and kissed her so passionately.

The servant's hall was quiet, that was a blessing. Elsie heaved a sigh of relief,

They sat him down at the table and Elsie busied herself making a pot of tea. Carson hovered uselessly next to her. They turned back to the table. Sarah sat watching, wide eyed, at John. Her hand an inch away for his, her lip quivering.

The tension in the room was unbearable.

"John"

He turned his head towards the sound and stared past her eyes, focusing instead on her right shoulder. It wasn't the name he was answering for he did not know he owned it, but the urgency in the woman's voice, the compassion, the love.

"Don't you know me?"

They all waited with baited breath for her answer.

"No...I'm sorry..."

Sarah felt sick. Unable to process this terrible turn of events. She felt her shoulders shake and bit back the anger that threatened to take over her.

"Who are you?" His polite questioning tone nearly made her shake him. She knew her anger at him to be irrational; she had wanted him back so much but this wasn't him.

"Me name's Sarah." She clenched her fists to steady her shaking arms "I'm yer wife"

His face registered shock and he moved his arm up, as if seeking her out. She softly caught his hand in hers, his fingers curled around her wrist tenderly.

"I have a wife?"

A sudden noise broke the silence behind them and Sarah turned and found a very strange scene: Carson had burst into very un-gentlemanly sobs into Mrs Hughes's shoulder and she was patting his back whilst he hiccupped. 'Sorry' she mouthed at Sarah who suddenly wanted to smirk at the whole ridiculous situation.

"Shall we go fer a walk?"

Sarah found the sound of her own voice a surprise, it was high pitched and unnatural.

"Could yer hold me arm?"

"Course"

Sarah smiled for the first time in a long time. She took John's arm, helped him up and guided him outside, making an unconscious decision to walk towards his cottage. Their cottage, she reminded herself.

"I can't see you" His voice was so soft she barely heard it.

"Don't worry...it's probably fer the best, I'm not a great looker..." Breaking the tension between them with a joke seemed to work. John chuckled in reply, relaxing in her company. His arm held her less stiffly and she moved closer to him as they walked.

Once they were in the house Sarah was at a loss at what to do. "Shall I guide you round? Give yer the grand tour?"

Johns pale face broke into a lopsided grin and she felt her heart melt.

Later on once they had pottered round the tiny house for a while with Sarah introducing him with great formality to every single little detail to his house, including the places they'd kissed or when he had held her hand or drunken tea. John fell dull; he didn't remember any of the wonderful moments she had with her brave Knight.

He sat on the bed and listened to her footsteps in the next room as she made dinner for them. He traced the soft quilt underneath him letting his feet brush the wooden floor but felt nothing. Nothing but loss.

He felt the floor creak next to him and a hand on his shoulder.

"Dinners ready"

Sarah took his hand and sat him down at the table. They eat in silence. John kept missing his mouth with his fork and got snappy when she tried to help him. She knew he wasn't really angry with her at all and kept her patience with him.

That night she helped him into bed and made her way out to sit in the next room. He put his hand out to stop her and roughly caught her skirts.

"Where are yer going?" He had become used to the sound of her footsteps incredibly quickly.

"Ter sleep in the next room"

"Stay here. This is your bed isn't it?"

Sarah hadn't even considered sleeping next to him. It felt odd, like she would be breaking some unspoken code. But nether the less she slipped out of her clothes and into her nightgown. At first she undressed with her back to him, very self consciously but then she realised that he could not see her and somehow that helped.

The bed creaked as she slid under the covers.

The room was cold and a comfortable silence descended over them.

Their hands brushed against each others inside the sheets, cold skin.

The darkness consumed them and they slept.

No romance tonight. No candles. No kiss. Just the soft sound of the river.


	17. Into the Storm

The winter was harsh and the wind blew bitterly. John became better at getting around the house on his own and Sarah had set up little bells next to things he might want such as the wardrobe handle and the chairs.

On the Saturday it snowed. Sarah dressed Lady Grantham with care and waited to be dismissed. Her ladyship took an annoyingly long time to decide whether she was happy with her evening gown or not. Pearls or diamonds. Sarah didn't give hoot which, she just wanted to be home to check on John.

For goodness sake, she was more worried about him hurting himself in his own cottage than she was about the poor men at the front.

He was standing outside the cottage, leaning against the wall in only his shirt sleeves. It was bitterly cold and the wind blew the snowflakes in swirls around Sarah, catching her skirts as she ran down to meet him.

"John? John, what yer doing?"

He didn't react to him name but turned towards her at the brisk tone of her voice.

"I can feel the snow!"

"And its cold!" Sarah huffed angrily and made her way past him inside to get something warm for him to wear.

He caught her clumsily around the waist as she passed him and held out his hand for her to see. A large, perfect snowflake lay in his palm. He was beaming past her with a childish pleasure. Painful emotion shot through Sarah, a baby would react the same way to new things. Her baby. Gently she slide her arm under his and let it rest on the small of his back, leaning in against his side and letting her head rest against the crook of his neck.

John felt happiness wash over him. This woman was accepting him. He knew that legally they were bound together as man and wife but he wanted her to love him as he was, not for who he had been.

They stood like that for several moments. Holding the moment and each other as if the world had stopped and it would only ever be them.

The breeze ripped at Sarah skirts and she shivered in his arms.

"Are yer cold?" John's voice was warm.

"No" Sarah lied easily and stared out at the snow covered grounds, glisterening with frost. "It's so beautiful"

"I wouldn't know" John's voice was torn between frustration and grief. His arms loosened around her waist and she felt the loss of them considerably.

"Let me describe it to yer"

Sarah told John of the swirling snowflakes and the frozen river. How Lady Mary had complained of the cold and Mrs Hughes had made her wear woolly drawers. John grinned at that. It light up Sarah's whole world to see him happy.

That night as they eat dinner they talking about things; just silly day to day things.

It was nice.

That night a storm howled outside the cottage.

John undressed himself gracelessly as Sarah knew he liked to do these things for himself. Sarah changed hastily from the warmth of her layered servant's gown to the thin nightgown she wore for bed. She slipped thick long stockings on as well and wrapped a woollen shawl around her shoulders as she tidied up after John.

The one candle they had burning in the bed room guttered out and Sarah could find the bloody matches.

It didn't matter.

The snow turned to sleet, the heavy water pounded against the window, making them both jump as they tried to settle down. Sarah layed her head on her pillow, lying on her side so she was facing John. She could just make out the silhouette of his face in the darkness. The temperature plummeted that night so that Sarah had to physically fight the urge to snuggle up against her sleeping husband. Only he wasn't sleeping very naturally.

Outside the cottage the wind upset the log pile and the wood banged against the wall as it fell.

John screamed in his sleep. Throwing off the covers he fought an invisible foe that seemed to be hovering about him. His arms lashed out and nearly caught Sarah, he kicked and punched and Sarah lay for a moment horrified

Something seemed to snap in her head and she lost patience.

She threw herself across him, bodily pinned him to the bed, she gripped his wrists and she forced him down, calling for him to wake up.

To stop.

He didn't.

She fought with him for a moment and found herself sobbing in anguish and terror. To sooth him she began to kiss his angry face; forehead, cheeks...anything to stop him.

Suddenly his eyes flew open and his yelling became less angry and more scared.

She was still holding his flailing wrists but was now making shushing noises. He abruptly stopped moving and stopped shouting as quickly as he had begun.

Sarah hovered above him, very aware of her body pressed against his, their legs entangled, their bodies hot. It was such a contrast to the temperature outside of the bed.

His breathing came in harsh bursts and his eyes now leaked with tears.

"Sarah?"

"I'm here, I'm here"

Quite naturally she kissed him.

It was a moment of comfort. She released his wrists and her hands moved to his chest whilst his encircled her back, drawing her close.

His lips were rough against hers.

It felt wonderful.

They broke apart, both ignoring the storm outside and Sarah softly stroked his cheek with her free hand.

"I remember" John's voice came as nearly a whisper.

"What? What do yer remember?"

John tightened his hold about her and lent up to kiss her again, blindly searching for her lips. She lowered herself against him and he signed, no longer scared. This time it was a kiss of confirmation.

"I remember you, Sarah O'Brien"

It was like all her Christmases had come at once. His face no longer looked unsure and tentative but instead open and relaxed. He reached up blindly and his large hands found her head and he caressed her long hair, face contentedly beaming. She lent into his touch and felt happiness flood through her. It no longer felt wrong to be lying on top of him; instead it felt so right, so good. They fell asleep like that soon after, in each others arms.

The next morning Sarah awoke in a good mood. John still lay asleep below her and she lightly kissed his forehead before moving off the bed to dress and walking up to Downton.

The day passed slowly by and every second of it Sarah had to watch herself as her lips kept curving into a happy, knowing smile.

Arriving home that evening she was surprised to find John sitting at the table, still in his nightshirt in floods of tears. Without evening thinking about she threw her arms around him, pulling him against her. It could have been very awkward as he was sitting and she standing but it wasn't. He nestled his head into her waist and she stroked his hair soothingly. His hands clenched on the table top, white knuckles. Sarah felt worry creeping over her again. He had remembered her, what else had he remembered of the front?

"Mr Crawley is dead" John's voice shook and it took a moment for what he had said to hit Sarah. She staggered with disbelief and John blindly caught her waist with his arms and steadied her. She sat down at the table next to him, taking his hands in hers, gently letting her long fingers brush over the rough skin of his hands.

She lent towards him so their foreheads touched. "Are yer sure?" She breathed softly.

"Yes. Matthew Crawley died next to me."


	18. Into the Terror

John stood in the centre of the Drawing room at Downton, feeling incredibly self aware as if everyone in the room were staring pointedly at him yet he could not see to confirm this. He had just told Lord Grantham of Matthew Crawley's demise. He had struggled to keep the emotion out of his voice and would have been shaking if it weren't for a firm hand in his. He couldn't see but he knew instinctively that Sarah stood a little behind him. He could feel her other hand on his back, fingers lightly tracing soothing circles to calm him.

A silence descended on the room.

Sarah looked across at the family and felt their loss immensely. It was her fault that there was no alternative successor, yet she could not regret that now. The guilt still burned, still remembered and mourned, but didn't rule her life as it had done before.

Mary Crawley made a strangled whimpering noise and swiftly left the room. Lady Grantham stared into the middle distance, not crying yet eyes red. Her lip trembled and Sarah fought the urge to move and comfort her. Her own husband needed her more. She knew how much effort it had taken him to have the courage to face the Crawleys with this devastating news.

"It cannot be"

Lord Granthams voice angrily broke the silence, snapping everyone out of the horrified trace.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I saw it with me own eyes"

"But you cannot see can you man!" Sarah looked at Lord Grantham in shock and anger. The Lord's face burned red with the shame of his accusation and sadness.

"I could see fine then, m'lord."

John gripped Sarah's hand tighter and she moved closer to him in response. If Lord Grantham was spoiling for a fight to calm his sorrow, John would not be the one to face him; Sarah would make sure of that.

"Robert, dear…" Cora lifted her head slowly to look into her husbands angry eyes. He did not meet her gaze.

"Sir, please. Yer have ter believe me"

"Why man? Why?" Lord Grantham bellowed thunderously. The room seemed to physically shrink back in terror.

"We shall take our leave, m'lady" Sarah's voice was brisk and confident, hiding the warring emotions that bubbled inside of her. It was safer to address her ladyship, if she some much as looked at Lord Grantham She would feel the need to slap some sense into him.

They walked back to their cottage in quiet companionship; John had his arm through hers. They both were battling their feeling alone. Sarah felt anger at Lord Grantham, sorrow for her ladyship and guilt for her own part in the destruction. Her loyalties were divided. John felt unexpectedly scared. His lordships loud voice had sent him straight back to the god forsaken trenches, orders were screamed and the cried that were echoed in response were those of the men dying over the top of the wall. John had been to hell. He doubted he could ever return from it. He could pretend with Sarah but he would never be truly free again. In a way it was almost a justice for the wrong he had done in his childhood. The remembrance of the woman's face as she screamed down the stairs. It became the soldiers scream, it became Sarah's scream on the wind and it became his own terrified scream at the nightmares.

As they lay in the bed together that night Sarah nestled into his side and wrapped her thin arms around his chest. She felt warm against his cold body. He blindly kissed her on the nose. She giggled feebly.

"Yer daft thing"

Her deep voice was a comfort in the dark, like honey on toasted bread.

On Sunday they attended church together. The morning dawned crisp and bright. Sarah dressed John in his best suit and herself in a simple matching plum skirt and jacket. John sat on the bed humming as she dressed and did her hair. Once she had finished she walked over to him and stood before his, guiding his hands with hers to do up the last button of her shirt that sat at the neckline. His fingers brush her bare skin and he grinned, tracing the curve of her neck with his coarse hands. She lent forwards at kissed him gently on the cheek, slipping a warm woollen scarf around his neck.

They walked together into the village slightly after the rest of the Downton servants. Sarah talked him through their path; describing the trees and snow and pallid white sky. He held her arm with his and stroked her mitten clad hands all the while the walked.

The church was full and they settled down together at the back.

The bells tolled. Calling the world to prayer.

John jumped at the unexpected noise.

Too late Sarah realised what a terrible thing she had done in bringing him here.

The organ music is too loud.

John clutches the wooden beach, shaking it so the people around them stare.

Someone drops the choir books behind them.

They hit the floor with a resounding crash.

John looses it completely.

Sarah pulls a screaming John from the church.

He fights her, pushing and snarling.

Terrified out of his mind.

He slips on the icy path and falls painfully in the grave yard. He tried to stand, completely disorientated. His eyes fail him again and he cries out in frustration. Sarah stands a little way off. There is nothing she can do to stop him without him hurting her.

John gradually becomes quieter.

Sarah slowly walks towards him. His breath comes in ragged gasps. He hears her footsteps and jerks towards them, expecting the enemy.

"John, please…"

Her hands cup his face and instantly his fears are gone. She kneels next to him and takes him in hers arms, not caring where they are or who sees them.

The graveyard is quiet.

Singing drifts towards them from the church.

The music is softer now, calming. John gripped her sleeve and she stroked his head as he burrowed, childlike, into her welcoming arms. A few stray tears escaped from her eyes and she forcefully wiped them away quickly with her free hand. No time for bloody sobbing. Slowly they stand up together and Sarah takes Johns hand and leads him homewards. He follows obediently.

At Downton Abbey gates Sarah was surprised to see two well dressed woman standing, apparently waiting for them. She quicken her footsteps as she neared them, foreboding sweeping over her like icy wind. The women stood tall and proud dressed in clean coats and fine hats. Their hair was neat and despite the cold they looked happy with themselves.

"A present for your husband"

The blonde woman extended her hand out to Sarah. A single white feather lay in her palm. The woman smiled nastily.

Sarah felt it wasn't really the best time to lose her temper, but she bleeding did anyway. With a face filled with thunder she knocked the woman's hand away violently and snarled "Don't yer dare!" The women looked startled by her outburst. Had they been expecting thanks?

Later that night Sarah was still fuming. John sat in the comfortable chair in the bedroom as Sarah paced. He didn't know what the woman had offered Sarah but he knew she was angry. He was scared. He knew what he had to do.

"I'm going back ter fight."

"Don't be such a fool!" Sarah's voice was heated by passion. There was no way her Knight was going back to the front. Even if she had to tie him to the damn chair he would never be going back, she didn't care about the morals of Queen and Country were anymore.

John's voice replied in a shaky whisper. "I'm sorry…"

"Don't be" Sarah lent over him to kiss his lips and found his arms wrapping inelegantly around her, pulling her on top of him to sit on the chair as well. "Don't ever be sorry"

She curled into his chest and stroked the arm the held her waist.

The room was cold and the fire burned low.

They stayed in the position for a long time till eventually John lifted Sarah up and found his way to the bed. Gently he layed her down and traced his hands up over her waist and shoulder to find the buttons that fastened her shirt. Sarah kissed his forehead tenderly and he bent over her in reply, kissing her neck and letting his hands trail down her body to find the fastening of her skirts. They tumbled gracelessly into bed together.

It was a lovely end to a horrible day.

In the darkness Sarah lay next to her sleeping Knight.

No nightmares tonight.

She laid her head on his shoulder and his arm curled around her quiet naturally, shielding her from the world.

"I love you" Sarah whispered into the shadows.


	19. Into the End

John had to wake Sarah to next morning. She had contentedly overslept. John could sense it was morning, he could smell the freshness and the light was brighter. Sarah was a light weight against his side, she was comfortable against him, her hand sprawled across his chest.

Something was different.

He felt happy.

Maybe that was it? Sarah was warm and soft. Her chest rose and fell naturally against his side. It felt good. He was loathed to wake her but knew he must. She must do her job, her duty.

He shook her lightly and she stirred.

Sarah dressed slowly. Looking out of the windows, although the curtains were still drawn against the white light caused by the snow. She lent against the bed and bent down to kiss John's forehead, her hair still plaited down her back. She stroked his cold cheek with one long finger and her caught her hand in his and pressed it against his lips.

"I heard yer"

"Pardon?" Sarah spluttered surprised.

"Last night, I heard yer"

Sarah grinned at the memory of last night, his hot bare skin against hers, hands clutching, rough lips. She had cried out into the darkness. "Well, it was your fault!" She brushed her hand against his lips and he kissed her again.

She turned and walked back to the window, coiling her long, dark hair on top of her head.

John turned his head towards the sound, letting his fingers curl around the soft sheets he lay in. He wanted to get up but knew he was wearing nothing under the covers. Best to maintain what little dignity he had left.

Sarah moved the curtains back from the window, letting a soft lithe of bright winter sun light into the room. It stung John's eyes and he put his hand up to shield them. He could make out a dark blurred shaped. It moved almost teasingly, swaying as it hummed.

John blinked in astonishment.

It was no dream. It was Sarah's silhouette against the window.

He gasped and sat up, holding the sheets around his waist as he did so. Sarah turned to look at him and found him staring right at her, not to the side but right, directly at her. His face broke into a beautiful smile that nearly broke her heart.

His hand stretched out to her and she moved to take it willingly.

He looked directly into her face and cupped it with both hands, tears streaming down his cheeks. Beaming with happiness.

His lips found hers.

After what seemed like forever they broke apart, breathless.

John pulled her back on to the bed, into his arms. "I didn't mean that! I meant yer murmur…I wasn't asleep yer know"

Sarah looked up in surprise. He had heard her whispered confession.

"I meant it"

He brushed the loose strands of hair from her face and stroked her harsh jaw line tenderly.

"I love yer too. Always. Whatever yer do."

His confession light up her whole world. This was the moment she had been living her life for. The whole point of her existence. Only…her heart burned with guilt and regret and loss. Mixed emotions tumbled through her with an icy chill. The truth seemed to bubble through her. It burst out of her lips with a terrible loudness.

"I lost our baby."

His arms went stiff around her and his face paled.

"Our…baby?"

His voice trembled, wavered at the life that had been so cruelly taken away. A life he hadn't even known had breathed in this house. Sarah wanted to run away, to hide. But she could never leave his arms. Even if he pushed her away.

"When…?"

"Summer"

"How?"

"I...I don't know…she just.."

"She?" John voice brokenly interrupted.

"Emma"

John sat in stunned sadness. Sarah made an attempt to pat his knee but couldn't bring herself to move.

"Forgive me"

"Don't be silly…"

His kind words were too much. Sarah burst into tears.

John tightened his arms around her and held her against him, rocking slowing. There was a pain in his chest, as if his heart were being stabbed with a needle. How had she managed to cope with the loss of a baby? He kissed the top of her head and murmured comforting nothings. She wrapped her arms around his naked waist and buried herself into him, hiding from the world.

Winter passed them by, spring brought more light into John's life; summer made Sarah sad and before they could blink a whole year had passed.

William came back to Downton, bruised and battered but very much alive. Daisy married him within a week. His presence at Downton seemed to open many wounds of the war.

Mary Crawley stopped snapping at her sisters, stopped coming down for breakfast briskly and then one day didn't wake up at all. She had over dosed on laudanum. She had truly loved Matthew Crawley.

Carson wept openly at her funeral. Elsie Hughes held his hand in her small ones. They stayed like that; at each others sides but never quite together.

Anna waited for Mr Bates to come home from the front. She waited for years, a lifetime. He came back unchanged. Still limping, still completely in love with her.

Lady Grantham felt the war change the English countryside, it swept over them like a new dawn. Robert continued to look at her with the same sad twinkle in his eye, love still stood strong between them.

Edith Crawley felt her sister's loss considerably. She and Sybil both left Downton in quiet un-dramatic ways, one to join the land army and the other to be a nurse.

John and Sarah Knight stayed at Downton Abbey. John pottered around the gardens as he regained his sight and Sarah finally let herself be loved by the one man who had truly saved her. John's shell shock never left him.

One fine, warm evening Sarah looked out of her kitchen widow to see Mrs Hughes running down the lawn to her cottage. The woman burst through the door with joy and hugged her. As much as Sarah was taken aback by these actions she returned the embrace.

"The war is over"

A strange peace descended over Sarah and she smiled at Elsie Hughes.

That night she slept peacefully with her husband. She felt extraordinary, lighter somehow. Now when ever she thought of the past it didn't jar her as it had once done but instead it seemed to roll away, like the rest of history, an everlasting timeline of everyone's guilt.

She had finally done it.

She had forgiven herself.

End.


End file.
